


If I had a heart

by alienswamp



Category: Norse Religion & Lore, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Eating Disorders, Gen, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Norse Mythology - Freeform, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-01-05 01:07:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1087782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienswamp/pseuds/alienswamp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki is a freshman at a prestigious college, double majoring in philosophy and comparative literature (with a minor in French), kicked out of his dorm room after public safety finds his three ounces of purple kush. </p><p>He's also involved in a complicated relationship with Svadilfari, his 31-year-old Icelandic boyfriend with a horse tattoo on his ass and a seemingly endless supply of Adderall.  Now on top of that, his mother is forcing him to move in with his older brother Thor, because apparently he needs to be babysat for the remainder of his semester.</p><p>Modern AU (very) loosely based on Norse mythology and the MCU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> **content warnings:** verbal/emotional abuse, nonconsensual sexual situations (not described graphically, but these include sex with a character too drunk to consent and other coercive situations), disordered eating (described in detail), drug and alcohol use, mental health issues, self-destructive behaviors in general, self-harm (rather graphic), suicidal ideation, suicide attempt

  _I want to walk in the snow_

_and not leave a footprint behind_

_I want to walk in the snow_

_and not soil its purity_

—Manic Street Preachers, “4st 7lbs”

 

Loki skulks around Thor’s kitchen, searching for foods that would be acceptable—applesauce, SmartPop, lettuce, vegetable soup. 

In the fridge, the first thing Loki notices is a lattice constructed of bacon. He recalls Thor and his Neanderthal friends talking about how awesome it would be to weave together strips of bacon. Idiots. There’s an endless supply of Pepsi—not diet, packages of pepperoni, and all manner of cheeses, some in blocks, others shredded in bags. A pack of cheese sticks catches his eye—string cheese could be okay, maybe—he’ll look into it later. Thor does have some veggies, like broccoli stalks, although they look like they require effort to prepare, and there’s certainly no lettuce. The freezer is full of hamburgers and meatballs and breakfast sausages and ice cream and frozen pizzas and even a Sirloin steak. And a couple bottles of Grey Goose.  

Thor has stocked his pantry primarily with potato chips, PopTarts, Lucky Charms, and ramen, but also with pasta and sauce and other things you might use to make a genuine meal. The cabinets and fridge are packed full. Nothing is safe and easy. 

“ _Mooom_ ,” Loki whines, loudly because she’s all the way in what will be his new closet, hanging up his clothes. He slams the pantry door closed and storms into the room that is still far from feeling like his at all. “I can’t live with Thor. I hate it here. It smells like dog,” he sniffs, “and it’s a mess.”

“Oh, there’s nothing wrong with Thor’s home,” Frigga says, always too gentle, and far too fair to that great oaf. “And it does not _smell_.  Although it’s true I’m the one who cleans it, if that ever gets done. Perhaps you can help your brother clean.”

“Nothing here is right, and there’s messes everywhere, and a _bacon lattice_ ,” Loki continues, plopping down on his bare bed. He’s not going to respond to the suggestion that he help clean Thor’s pig messes. “I hate this bed.” He bounces a little. “Not squishy enough.”

“It’ll be squishy once I put the Tempur-Pedic on it. Wait until I make it.”

Frigga Borson looks graceful in everything she does, even if it’s just putting Loki’s tight black jeans on hangers. Her hair is long, wavy, and golden, as Thor’s also is. Before he realized he was adopted, Loki always did wonder if he was cursed, to have black hair when it would be genetically impossible.  “You do wear so very much black. With the occasional grey or green,” she comments. Her own wardrobe favors earthy colors and long skirts with vibrant floral prints.

“I like black,” says Loki defiantly.

“I was merely commenting,” Frigga says. “Now get the Tempera-Pedic and the fitted sheet first.”

Loki assists his mom in preparing the bed, meanwhile squinting from the light and making his discomfort known, “The window has no blinds, and it’s so big. The sun is getting in my eyes. This room is _terrible_. It’s not fair you’re making me go here.”

Frigga sighs in the way that Loki knows he makes her sigh, and he feels a little bad about it, but not bad enough, because the light is really bothering him.

“Loki, you know exactly why you’re here. We can get you some curtains, if you will be more comfortable. But don’t push it. It was I who talked your father into this arrangement—he was bent on disinheriting you when the school first called.”

“Dad should be proud of me for showing an interest in business!”

“Loki, that isn’t funny. Cut it out already.”

Loki goes quiet, a little regretful that he’s upsetting his mom. That wasn’t what he meant to do.

Moments later, he decides it can’t hurt to ask, “If we go shopping for curtains—can we do grocery shopping too?”

"And where, might I ask, do you plan on putting the groceries you purchase? I took Thor shopping just the other day. I cannot imagine he is lacking anything.”

“His food sucks. He picks dumb food.”

“So Sirloin steaks suck? Gruyere cheese sucks? I can’t speak for the bacon lattice, but, that’s my Thor. What do you want to buy?”

Loki thinks quickly. “You _know_ I’m trying to be a vegetarian, so there’s stuff I need!” he snaps.

“I didn’t know that, Loki,” says Frigga, “You’ve never even mentioned it before. Though there’s plenty of cheese, pizza, pasta, sauce—even vegetables!  Admittedly Thor isn’t really into…tofu….but I think you can manage.”

“I just want applesauce,” says Loki.  “I like it.”

“Yes, Thor hates applesauce, I can’t imagine he has any.”

“I know.  That’s why I like it.”

“Loki.”

“Well it’s not the only reason I like it.”

“Loki, do we have to get applesauce? Now? Can’t you wait? You and Thor could go shopping together, once you’re lower on food.”

“You used to make applesauce every day for breakfast. But then Thor started hating applesauce. So you stopped making it. You never asked me if I still wanted it. Everything has to be about Thor! Grocery shopping with _Thor_! Why? So he can build a house out of bacon?”

Frigga doesn’t conceal her fond smile—Thor’s excessive love of bacon must be endearing to her. Loki is filled with rage that she’d laugh when he’s so upset. “I don’t know where this came from, though if I recall correctly—you never told me you wanted applesauce,” she says. “Surely I would’ve made it if you had.”

“ _I didn’t even think you’d care_! They say the youngest is the baby. The baby gets spoiled. But you and Father always just went with what Thor wanted, what would make Thor happy. And I was just supposed to follow suit. Like I was his shadow. But I'm not his shadow. I'm a different person.  I don't like _bacon_ , I don't like _sunlight_ , and I don't like _stupid_ springy beds. _He's_ your Thor. Why am I not your Loki? Is it because I’m not _really_ yours?"

At this point Loki feels like he might cry. Seconds later, he’s sorry he said all that. He doesn’t even care about the applesauce for breakfast. He only cares about getting it from the grocery store now.

Frigga sits down next to him on the half-made bed and reaches to caress his cheek. “You must know how untrue your words are. I need you to know we’ve always loved you both the same. But honey, you _are_ my Loki. You know that.”   

Loki sobs the gross, ugly sob he has been holding in. “Father doesn’t think so. He doesn’t want me to be his anymore.”

“Baby, don’t say that. I know things are hard right now, but your father will come around. He has made his own mistakes. And Thor got into his share of trouble when he was your age, and he and your father have put it behind them.”

“I don’t want to hear about Thor. I don’t care. I hate him. I hate all of this.”

“Listen, Loki. If you want to take time off school, that’s quite all right—”

“No! It isn’t!  They tried to do that already and I’m not _leaving_.” Despite who Loki’s father is, the dean still strongly suggested a voluntary leave of absence. “My grades are nearly perfect, Mama. As you know, I did exceptionally on all my midterms.” Except for that B+ in calculus, but he won’t mention that. “There is absolutely no reason I am unable to perform in school. Unless you really think I cannot do it—go ahead and say it already!” he concludes, and he’s laughing bitterly.

The look in Frigga’s eyes is frightened, and Loki is immediately plagued by guilt. He has been told that his laughter is sometimes inappropriate for the situation; it makes other people uncomfortable, especially his parents. “Don’t laugh like that,” she says, and he tries his hardest to make a serious face.

“Love, please,” Frigga says. She reaches into her purse, removes a black stone, and places it in Loki’s hand.  He shudders slightly.

“This is for you, love, I’ve mean meaning to find the right time to give it to you.  It’s black tourmaline, for protection.  It will turn negative energy into positive energy.”

“Why, because I’m just so full of negative energy?”

“No, Loki. Are you going to be able to calm down? You want to get those curtains for the room, don’t you?” she teases with a slight smile.

“Yeah, I do. Sorry,” he adds, head down.

“Let’s go. Put your coat and shoes on.” She slips the crystal under his pillow, adding, “For pleasant dreams, and for your sleep troubles.  Do you think we could skip the grocery store? I’m meeting your father for dinner in the city.”

When Loki stands up, he’s a little lightheaded, but he shakes it off. “Sure, Mama.  No grocery store,” he says quickly, slipping on his Doc Martens. 

 

* * *

 

Loki stretches out on his new bed. His blankets are soft and comfortable. They’re green and black plaid with accents of red. At least they match the new green curtains. If he had his way, his bed set would be dark, and shiny, maybe with some green accents. He still hates the bed—even with the Tempur-Pedic—something just feels wrong. He hated the bed in his dorm too, and really just misses his bed at home—the perfect mix of not too squishy and not too firm—the only downside being that it’s at his parents’ penthouse, and his parents are there. He’s been home since his parents dragged him home from the dean’s office a week ago, and it’s way too tense right now.  

He pulls his French workbook out of his black leather satchel and gets started on translating simple sentences. The class is still doing shit he knows, and he can’t stop kicking himself for not testing out of intro. He blames his high school AP class, for mostly showing movies (and at a certain point, not even French ones) instead of preparing him to read _L’Etranger_ like he wanted. And that was supposed to be a _prestigious_ high school. It’s stupid.

Feeling antsy and bored after only a few minutes, Loki lights up an American Spirit, deeply inhaling his fix of nicotine. Without a cigarette in hand he does not know what to do with them. Often, around his mother and father, who totally do not approve, Loki finds himself holding his two fingers as though they contain a void only a cigarette could fill, but the simple motion of the flick, and the deep inhales of air—they soften the void when he can’t have a cig because Father would flip, like, _mega hard_. That’s another reason it’s good not to be home anymore. Here the biggest, most oafish threat is Thor. Of course Thor’s place doesn’t have ashtrays. The floor will do for now.

“ _Loki,_ ” booms Thor’s voice, and Loki can hear those elephant feet stomping to his door. Next Thor outright opens the door, like he _owns_ the place, which he _does_ , but this room is Loki’s space as of maybe six hours ago.

“ _Whaaat_ ,” Loki whines.

Thor’s still half in his work clothes, his tie undone and work shirt wrinkled. Loki still isn’t used to this new business Thor, whose hair, still while thick and disheveled, no longer falls to his shoulders. If Loki is guessing correctly, Thor isn’t used to this “clean-cut” look either.

“You could at least smoke on the balcony if you’re gonna smoke,” Thor says. “Mother will kill me if she knows I’m letting you smoke here.” _Yeah, well_ , Loki thinks, _Mother would’ve killed you if she knew you got me a fake ID when I was only fifteen._ Or when Thor abandoned Loki at a house party because he was banging some chick.  But now Thor acts like he’s so authoritative and responsible— _right_.

“Well, Mother’s not here!” says Loki.

“Well, this is my house!” says Thor, “The smell—it gets in the curtains!”

“The _smell_? At least it covers up the smell of your filthy beast dog!” 

“Don’t insult Mjolnir! And you didn’t even open the window! You have no respect for my house!”

“Oh, like I’m the rude one, when you’ve barged into my room, and I’m trying to do my fucking homework! This is my room!”  wails Loki.  He hasn’t put out his cigarette, but he feels bad enough not to take a drag right now. “And it looks like you’re the one with no respect for your house,” he adds,  “considering the state you keep it in!”

“This is not your room! It only became your room today! And it’s not _that_ bad!” says Thor.

“ _So_? Go away, I just want some peace and quiet to do my homework! Not you storming around and making it annoying as fuck to live here!”

“You wound me, little brother,” Thor says, now looking like a kicked puppy.  _Ugh._ “I baked a lasagna to celebrate us living together. Mom’s recipe. She said you were a vegetarian, which I’ve never heard you say before. So it’s vegetarian, for you. Man, I don’t get how you could do that when you love chicken and steak and all manner of meat! Do I even know my little brother? It’s been so long since we’ve gotten to spend time together.”

 _If only he hadn’t made the stupid thing vegetarian_ , Loki thinks, because that will ruin everything. Loki stares at Thor, numbly, cigarette burning away and ashes falling onto his sheets.

“In the kitchen. Half an hour. Like I said, there’s no meat in the lasagna. But there is meat in the meatballs.”  Thor grins and closes the door behind him, probably prancing off to set the table or touch himself or slather himself in bacon or _who the fucking  really cares what oafs do for fun_.  Loki finishes his cigarette and puts the butt in an empty mug, which perhaps would have made a fine ashtray. 

 

* * *

 

Thor is, admittedly, a good cook, almost as good as their mother is. His cooking is always warm, substantial, hearty—the sort of comforting meal you eat after a long hard day of doing whatever boring and terrible shit Thor must do as their father’s next-in-line. _Full of cheese and carbs and calories._  

Thor shovels his own lasagna into his mouth with vigor, washing down monster bites with monster gulps of beer. Between enormous mouthfuls, he makes small talk, asking if Loki is all unpacked yet—boring, routine, shit, and Loki doesn’t have to put much effort into answers.

Loki takes baby sips of his own beer; intoxication would make this meal most enjoyable, but he’s completely unsure of the beer. He rearranges the food on his plate and has to admit it looks lovely, and it’s _vegetarian_ , so now when he doesn’t eat it, Thor will think he hates it. Maybe he does, though the bit of sauce he licked off his fork was heavenly, no matter how unappetizing the Adderall pumping through his system tried to make it. 

“Little brother, are you enjoying the Italian cuisine I made for you?” Thor exclaims with all the good nature of Thor guzzling his probably second beer.

This vegetarian thing is kind of embarrassing now. Loki could tell Thor it’s disgusting, or he could say Thor’s an idiot, and part of him wants to.  But the other part of him feels terrible for thinking that and wishes he knew how to tell Thor he is thankful for the lasagna—or at least, for the sentiment, because he really wishes Thor hadn’t cooked and that they didn’t have to eat together.

“It’s _fine_. I’m just not hungry,” he says, and it sounds way ruder than he means.

“Why not?  Have you already eaten?”  Thor says, looking outraged and affronted.  _So dramatic._

“Yeah, I’m full,” Loki says, measuring his words. “I went out to lunch with Mom. And a lot of coffee today too. I will finish my food later.”

“I was only worried you didn’t like it. You can be such a picky eater.”

“I’m not picky,” Loki says, as his phone buzzes suddenly and loudly. Loki checks it, hiding the screen from Thor—it’s a text from a number he doesn’t recognize, saying they’re a friend of Freya’s and asking if they can get an eighth. Clearly they didn’t get the memo that he’s taking a “short break.”

He types back a quick text saying he’s not holding right now but will let everyone know when he gets more shit.

“Geez, Loki,” says Thor. “How are we supposed to have a nice meal together if you’re texting the whole time?”

“I can’t help it if everyone wants to talk to me because I’m so awesome, can I?”

Loki’s phone buzzes again—this time it’s Svadilfari texting.

“I guess you are really popular tonight,” says Thor, mockingly.

“It’s my boyfriend,” snaps Loki. “He _misses_ me.”

“Okay, that’s great, thanks for letting me know! I don’t know anything about you lately! You’re always on your damned phone!” retaliates Thor, losing whatever composure he previously had. “Is it too much for me to ask to have a nice meal with my little brother? Our mother wants me to make sure you’re eating and that—”

“Oh, is that true?” cuts in Loki. “Well, in case you haven’t noticed, I can take care of myself.” He stands up suddenly, pushing his plate of uneaten food away.

“What is wrong with you?” shouts Thor, his fist banging on the table. Now he’s obviously getting angry too, and Loki wants to be out of there because he doesn’t have the energy to go through with fight.

“I don't know,” Loki says. “I'm sorry! I was out of line.”

Thor looks like he’s about to yell but stops. 

“I would like to be in my room now,” Loki continues awkwardly. “Thank you for the food.”

His phone vibrates again, and he grabs it immediately, eager to be distracted.

“Loki,” begins Thor. “Whatever I have done to wrong you—”

“We’ll talk about it later,” says Loki, gesturing to his phone. They will not talk about it later, thank fucking god—Thor always prefers to forget all the bad stuff. It doesn’t matter. Loki slips away from the kitchen.

Svadilfari is calling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so once i started thinking about this AU, i was completely captivated by it and couldn't stop. i already have so much written and therefore am thinking maybe, just maybe, i can take on a longer project for once, so let's hope. 
> 
> this isn't thor/loki, but i love them together in other universes, in addition to loving their relationship as brothers, which is what you will find here.
> 
> 5/31/15: yes, i keep playing with this story. i'm adapting it into original work now, so it's especially on my mind. new title is from a [poem i wrote](http://coalescencing.tumblr.com/post/118756870422/bodies-of-water).
> 
> 11/29/15: just kidding, i'm changing back to the original title, which is from "if i had a heart" by fever ray. listen to it and read the lyrics if you haven't. :)
> 
> next chapter recounts loki's first meeting with svadilfari, and more about loki's world is revealed in time.
> 
> i would also like to thank my lovely friends [majikthise](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Majikthise/pseuds/Majikthise), [cheesings](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cheesings/pseuds/cheesings), and [puzzlie](http://puzzlie.tumblr.com) for helping me through my difficult writing process and even coming up with all the best lines in this story.


	2. two

_my past is like an apple tree_

_does he ever want to taste it?_

_ever since he came here through my_

_bedroom door, I've been a wild child_

—Karin Park, “Wild Child”

 

Loki hates himself, but he looks kind of hot. His black nails are newly painted and shiny as hell, and he admires the way they curl around the cigarette he’s totally not supposed to be smoking in this dorm room. He has a stick of sandalwood incense burning, which is also not really allowed, but people mind it less than cigarette smoke because the hallway normally smells weird and musty anyway. If the RA says anything, Loki will blame his roommate.

His roommate usually disappears for the weekend, and sometimes a lot of the week too—actually, he’s never there, but _whatever_. Loki cherishes being alone in the dorm to do whatever the fuck he pleases, which is usually homework and chain-smoking and scattering his books all over the floor because there’s nowhere to put them anyway.

Right now his beautiful aloneness gives him the freedom to pose in his three way mirror, contorting his face into different expressions and feeling like they are all, somehow, wrong. His nose is too long, maybe a bit crooked too. He is sure it is crooked, actually. He winces. _Disgusting._ He puckers his lips—they are too thin.

At the very least, smoking makes him feel delectable.

Loki lifts his black shirt to feel the cavern created by his ribcage. His hipbones stick out sharply; they are one of the only things he loves about himself. But his desire is to be hollowed out so he can see only the pointed angles in his body. Loki wants to see his ribs from the back, to see the ridges between his vertebrae—but his spine retreats inside his body, and when he reaches back he cannot feel the bumps. Before pulling his shirt down, he idly wonders how possible it even would be for his spine to stick out like that. Maybe he should stop focusing on his loathsome body.

Long, dark lashes are the one feature that Loki can fully admit he loves about himself. He grabs his tube of mascara and enhances them because he’s going out tonight.

Loki could stare into the mirror forever, really, hating himself, loving himself— _whatever_. With the mascara and his blow-dried hair, he looks so delicate, so _feminine_ , and he tries to see if he can imagine his mother—not the mother he knows, but the strange woman who abandoned him. His body resembles a stranger’s more than any of his family members’—no wonder it feels so alien. What the hell even is he? He wonders this every time he looks at himself, because his features aren’t just unlike his parents’ and Thor’s—they’re really a bit bizarre. Not too many people share his combination of black hair, green eyes, and pale skin. Sigyn is also adopted, one of the reasons she’s his close friend, and she’s Japanese, adopted into a Norwegian family. She tells Loki that he may be part Japanese too. His mother avoids the subject whenever he tries to ask about his true heritage.

And Loki is so tall ( _stop thinking about how you look_ , he begs himself, bracing for the onslaught of more obsessive thoughts). He’s spindly, so he does not take up much space (but still, somehow, too much), and people still accuse him of being “small”— _maybe compared to Thor_.

He grabs the handle of Smirnoff vodka from his desk and pours another shot; only his second drink, and it burns and fills his body with warmth. Within minutes, his head is already swimming and the thoughts of Thor are fading away. The gods blessed Loki with a low tolerance to alcohol. And he hasn’t eaten anything—except the bubblegum he chewed through his classes.

Getting trashed is Loki’s plan for the night—the thought has been in the back of his head all day. In Calculus he sat thinking about what it will be like to drink and unwind and forget about everything because his first quiz came back with a _B_.

Maybe it’s odd that he plans on going out alone, but _who cares_. His only two friends at school are Freya and Sigyn, and they’re probably off doing their own shit, making out with each other or whatever they do all the time. Really, Loki dislikes hanging out in large groups. Freya and Sigyn often drag Loki to hang out with their friends, who mostly smoke and eat and don’t talk to Loki very much.

One more vodka shot will do the trick, and Loki will then rely on his iPhone’s walking directions to the nearby bar where you can smoke inside. He went with Freya just last week, and his fake ID totally works there— _and thank you_ _for that, Thor_ , he thinks.

 

* * *

 

Loki almost immediately decides that his night would have been better spent doing French homework and philosophy readings. The bar is dark and Loki is able to conclude that everyone in here sucks. He should’ve stayed home.

Before he knows it (he is so weak willed and hates himself for it), he’s going back on that declaration and checking out some dude—a blonde man with muscular arms covered in tattoos, shown off by his tight sleeveless shirt, and he’s wearing electric blue sunglasses inside the bar. That’s a new level of absurdity and honestly a bit distracting to Loki.

 _What a douche._ Loki can’t help but stare, because this douchebag is totally a hot douchebag and Loki is maybe ( _definitely_ ) into that fine piece of ass.

He isn’t usually afraid to get caught staring, but it still always startles him when he does. The man lowers his sunglasses, and he and Loki lock eyes from across the room. So Loki gets closer. He gives Loki a smile, and maybe it’s the alcohol, because they are two strangers, but they feel like the only two people in this crowded little bar, maybe even in the universe.

As Loki smiles back, he feels like they’re sharing a secret, whatever it is.

Loki turns his smile into a smirk, as he is accustomed to doing when he flirts. “Buy me a drink?” he says, moving his face really close to this strange and sexy man. He maybe shouldn’t be so sure the guy is into that, but he’s buzzed as hell.

“You are really something, aren’t you,” the man says, speaking in an accent that is totally foreign and sexy, but still clear—whatever, it’s something European at least, and accents are Loki’s weakness.

“Me? I’m just a college student from around here,” says Loki. “Totally boring. Where is your accent from? It sounds—Nordic or something.”

“Icelandic, actually,” says the man, nodding.

“Seriously?” Loki feels his whole face lighting up. “I’m been hoping my parents will give me money to travel there, in the summer. I really want to see the hot springs, and the northern lights, and the Mid-Atlantic ridge.”

The man orders their drinks— _two_ _tequila sunrises_ —while Loki talks, but he looks back in time to smile warmly and respond, “Yes, there are many natural wonders in my country. Not to say there is no geological intrigue on this side of the point. I would love to see Yellowstone. But never mind that. I am buying you a drink, so please, tell me your name.”

Loki grins. “Thank you. I’m Loki,” he says.

“Loki? I am sorry—I don’t imagine Loki is a common name. Would you by any chance be the son of Odin Borson? Of Asgard Investments?”

“Yes, maybe I _am_ ,” says Loki, a little unsure of himself at first. He does and doesn’t like being recognized, but he decides to play it to his advantage. “You’ve heard of me?” Frigga has done her best to keep her baby boy out of the public eye, but it is still common knowledge that Odin has two sons.

“Apparently I have. My name is Svadilfari, and you probably haven’t heard of me, but I have a business of my own.”

“ _Svadilfari_?” repeats Loki. He’s not even sure he’s saying it right but tipsy enough not to worry. “Can I call you _Svadi_? _Svadi and Loki_? It’s meant to be!”

The drinks arrive, saving Loki from the response to what he just said. Loki starts draining his tequila sunrise, fast, while _Svadi_ takes his time, making idle conversation.

“You’re a student at the college?” Loki is nodding his answers as he downs his drink. “Is that really stressful? I remember college. All the all-nighters.”

“Oh, beyond stressful,” says Loki. Thinking about school is killing his buzz a little— _drink faster_ —and all the self-hatred that comes with a _3.0_ because he doesn’t need that stinking up his transcript.

“You take Adderall to study or have any friends who do?”

“Yeah,” Loki says, loudly—he is quite drunk. “Why, can you get me some?”

Svadilfari laughs. “Yes, absolutely. We’ll talk about it later. I’ll give you my card—it has my number. You go to a lot of parties on campus?”

“Totally, like, all the time,” says Loki, although he mostly does his homework and stays in unless Freya and Sigyn drag him out—so, he _could_ be going out all the time. It’s an option.

“How old are you anyway?”

“Old enough to party.”

“I’m thirty-one,” says Svadi. “Will that be a problem?”

“Not at _all_ ,” says Loki. “I’m legal! Barely, but—” he giggles into his drink.

Svadi orders another round of drinks. Loki finds that he really likes getting to know the older man— _even older than his brother_ , he can’t stop thinking. Loki does not often like to make eye contact—a trait that apparently makes him untrustworthy. But there is something inviting in Svadilfari’s blue eyes— _icy, not warm_ , but Loki is captivated, and he cannot look away.

 

* * *

 

Loki wakes in an unfamiliar bed, facedown, feeling like his entire body has been run over by, like, a stampede of wild beasts. _Guess last night was—good_. His memories are a bit hazy, full of some pretty big blanks, but he totally knows the important parts, like—he got with this totally hot guy who is still asleep next to him in this mahogany four-post bed. _Nice._ Not that his head isn’t fucking killing him.

He’s wearing only his underwear and a t-shirt that’s too big and falls off his shoulder, and he hopes he didn’t lose his black skinny jeans, and he hopes he has his phone, actually.

“Morning, sunshine,” says the man in the bed next to him, stirring. _Svadilfari._ Right. Loki still isn’t sure how to spell that.

Loki groans, burying his face in the velvet pillows.

“Yeah, you were pretty trashed,” Svadilfari says. “Wake and bake?” He reaches for a bong and lighter on his nightstand and takes a hit while Loki continues writhing under the covers.

“It’ll help,” he tells Loki, who manages to force his body into an upright position so he can manage this enormous-ass glassware.

The bong has a goddamn glass _dragon_ wrapped around it, red and intricate, and sort of badass, but sort of like something mass-produced and sold at a medieval fair—a little bit corny. Loki is used to his hand-rolled spliffs. He asks where the hole is, and Svadi says there is no hole and _you just pull the bowl out_ , and when Loki pulls, he takes out the entire stem. After he has embarrassed himself, he remembers how bongs work. “Oh. Just this part,” he mumbles to indicate that he knows all about bong rips—and then it hits him.

There’s so much smoke in his lungs, and maybe he’ll never be able to breathe again. He’s coughing up a storm, and he’s dissociating too, feeling like he’s looking at himself from the outside, and it’s bizarre he’s in this room with this unknown man. He reminds himself, _it’s just the pot, that’s why you’re thinking like this—you’ve been high before_. The worst of it passes, and warmth moves through his body. He becomes aware, from outside himself, that Svadi is rubbing his back as he coughs and gasps for air.

He’s still scared he’s going to choke and—where is he right now? How far from his dorm building is he? What’s Svadi’s last name? The intrusive narration of his mind supplies, _Should Svadi and I be talking about how fucked up this situation is instead of sitting here taking bong rips in silence_? Loki tries not to think about it, because there’s no reason to be paranoid about his current predicament. He’s just stoned. Only stoned. He doesn’t usually get this stoned. He tries not to. But it feels good.

The memory of puking in a gold and maroon bathroom comes back— _oh, that’s embarrassing_. He thinks he wants to die.

Loki is so deep inside his head when he becomes vaguely aware Svadi is shaking him and he doesn’t know how long he spaced out like that, and once again he reminds himself that what he feels coming on is probably only a _panic attack_ , and he tells his body to calm down.

“I’m sorry, it’s my fault,” Svadi is saying. “I’m sorry. Try to relax. I should have warned you go slower.”

After a moment Loki regains his use of language. “I’m _fine_.” Actually his headache is better now that he’s high. The nausea has faded, and actually, he’s super hungry, and _super embarrassed_ —his mind is in the process of blocking that out.

Svadi wraps his arm around Loki. “You’re so bony,” he says, feeling Loki’s exposed shoulder.

“Thanks,” says Loki with his shy smile.

“Breakfast?” says Svadi. “There’s a diner nearby. I feel responsible for last night. At least let me feed you, _Loki_.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” says Loki. He gets up, stretches, and searches the room for his clothes, which have been laid neatly on a desk chair.

“I think I really feel a connection to you, Loki Borson,” Svadi says.

As Loki pulls on his shirt, he wonders if Svadi is looking at the bare flesh and still thinking he’s bony. He giggles coyly and hopes.

 

* * *

 

“So, you’re a philosophy major, right?” Svadi says across their quaint diner booth, absently flipping through a menu that never ends.

“Yes, and a French minor,” Loki says, proudly. His own menu is untouched because he already knows what he wants. “I’m thinking of a double major with comparative literature, actually, but my dean says I don’t have to make up my mind until my sophomore year.”

“So ambitious. I began studying history myself when I was in school, but I switched to business.”

“Like my brother,” says Loki. “But he’s only following our father. You have your own company or business or something—you gave me the card, but I think I dropped it while we were in the taxi. I remember now!”

“Yes, I’m in solar energy.”

“Yeah, and you’re like, a self-starter. That’s way better than Thor. I bet my father would like if I switched to business too, though.”

“It’s probably good to make your own path in life. Do your own thing, despite who your father is.”

Loki is silent in response. He’s remembering the taxi back to Svadi’s place last night, and how the driver scolded him for lighting a cigarette inside the car.

“I’m thinking about getting the sausage and pepper omelet,” Svadilfari says, glancing at the menu. “What are you thinking about?”

“I’ll just have a coffee. Black.”

“Are you serious? I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.”

Loki is, admittedly, so hungry his stomach feels like it’s eating itself, but it isn’t a high-priority concern. “I’m not really that hungry,” he says, shrugging.

“Oh, do not be that way, Loki. You can’t have just coffee.”

“I’ll have the—“ Loki scans the menu for something that might be safe, “—fruit cup.”

“You should order more than that—perhaps, something with protein.”

By the time the waitress comes back, Svadi has talked Loki into at least getting some toast with his fruit.

“Do you think the Ikea is open?” Loki says soon after their breakfast arrives. He nervously sips his coffee— _too hot_ —and thinks about the bookshelves he needs.

Svadilfari doesn’t answer until he finishes chewing a bite of omlette. “What? It probably is— _why_?”

“I need some…things—for my dorm. I have too many books. They are on the floor, it’s so messy?”

“You are so tense, Loki,” says Svadilfari. Loki shivers, hearing his name—it’s never going to get old, how smooth it feels in Svadi’s accent. “Do not worry about your books. Here, have some of my omlet—” he forces his fork in Loki’s face.

“No—” says Loki, flinching away. “I’m a vegetarian!”

“Oh, there’s plenty of egg. Just eat around the meat.”

Loki is so offended by that suggestion. He’s also so hungry. He’s not even really a vegetarian. He takes a bite, sausage and all.

“You liar,” says Svadilfari. “You’re not really a vegetarian.”

Loki has a few more bites. It’s delicious. He has never had something so juicy and succulent in his life.

“Are you feeling better now? I am sure the food helped,” Svadi says once Loki has nearly finished the omelet. “You were so upset last night, I’m still unsure why.”

“I’m fine,” says Loki. “I wasn’t upset about anything.” Now he remembers that he was—there’s a fuzzy memory somewhere in his mind, of when he was so wasted and sobbing. It maybe didn’t last that long, but—it happened. _Fuck_. This whole weekend, so far, has been totally one shameful act after another, and it’s only Saturday morning—which is good, because he has a philosophy paper due Tuesday and hasn’t started.

“I’m glad to hear that, then,” says Svadi. “Even if you are a liar. I’m obsessed with you.”

They share a joint in Svadilfari’s car, and when Loki goes up to his dorm, he’s so stoned he almost has a panic attack in the elevator. He never persuaded Svadi to drive him to Ikea, he thinks, as he comes home to his book-littered room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter will explore more of the thor & loki relationship, and we'll finally meet my darlings, sigyn and freya.
> 
> once again i have to thank [majikthise](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Majikthise/pseuds/Majikthise), [cheesings](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cheesings/pseuds/cheesings), and [puzzlie](http://puzzlie.tumblr.com) for supporting me as i wrote, suggesting ideas, etc etc. 
> 
> in this chapter i quote "jizz in my pants" verbatim (lock eyes, from across the room). the bar scene was inspired by the bar scene in that music video after [cheesings](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cheesings/pseuds/cheesings) reminded me of it.
> 
> loki's desire to visit ikea is the result of this [text post](http://alienswamp.tumblr.com/post/70661578242/neox-shit-white-people-say-after-sex-thank) about "shit white people say after sex."
> 
> also i proofread this myself & i can be a bit careless so any mistakes are on me.


	3. three

_darling, darling, doesn't have a problem_

_lying to herself 'cause her liquor's top shelf_

_it's alarming, honestly, how charming she can be_

_fooling everyone, telling them she's having fun_

_—_ Lana Del Rey, “Carmen”

 

“So Thor isn’t going to mind us smoking out on the balcony?” says Sigyn, sitting cross-legged in the middle of Loki’s room, licking the grape blunt she is about to share with Loki and Freya. She is a meticulous roller, though her creations are never too fat because she tends to conserve weed. That may be for the best, because she and Loki get stoned super easily anyway.

“ _Please_ , Thor was the first person I ever got high with,” says Loki. “And I was only fourteen. He’s not exactly a bastion of responsibility.” Admittedly, Thor only let Loki smoke with him because he knew Loki had been getting stoned with his black-clad friends behind the gym. Well, Loki thought he’d been getting stoned. It turned out he hadn’t been inhaling, though, and Thor ended up explaining it to him, so his first real high was with his brother.

“So, you got my quarter?” says Freya, grabbing at the moonstones around her neck, the platinum chain entangled in her Manic Panic purple hair.

“Yeah, it’s already bagged, don’t worry," says Loki. “Svadi just dropped off an O. Gonna have to be—downsizing my business. I guess.”

But Thor isn’t going to bother to search under his bed anyway. Loki figures he can do whatever the hell he wants, but he’s a bit nervous. His stash of Adderall is hidden inside his bottle of Prozac, but the weed is harder to hide. It’s usually really dank and it stinks up the room and it’s not like Thor wouldn’t notice, but he hasn’t said anything yet.

“Is this the purple shit?” says Freya, pulling a few twenties out of her wallet.

“Nah,” says Loki, “his supplier is all out of it. Public safety is enjoying it, I’m sure. Miserable bastards.”

Loki reaches under his bed for Freya’s quarter and tosses it at her, then sticks her money in his back pocket.

“How much did they take?” says Sigyn.

“Three ounces,” says Loki. “They said I had to be dealing. But it’s not like they could prove anything. They didn’t even find the Adderall or the molly.” And they never would’ve searched if not for his asshole roommate ratting him out.

“Well, they’re blazing up it at pub safe headquarters,” says Freya. “At least they haven’t busted me and Freyr for keeping Hnoss and Gersemi. I couldn’t live without them in my room.” Loki smiles slightly—he is fond of the two cats she keeps in her dorm room. “God, Sigyn,” Freya whines, “when will you be done? I wanna smoke.”

“Chill, I'm still roasting it,” Sigyn says between licks, flicking her lighter.

Finally they make it onto the balcony to smoke their blunt. Actually, Loki realizes, it’s still only noon. Their classes all ended early today.

“I can't believe the school is letting you stay,” Sigyn says to Loki, her mouth full of smoke. “But I sure am glad you’re still taking French with me.”

“What can I say?” Loki shrugs. “They can't get enough of me.”

“God, I crave pizza so bad,” says Freya.

“Yeah, well, let’s order some Dominos,” says Sigyn. “I’m so down.”

“No way man, that stuff is killing me,” exclaims Freya. “Nine hundred and thirty calories in the cheesy bread. And I always eat the whole thing! I can't stop! It’s so good!"

Loki does not want to think about cheesy bread. Why does he get this sick satisfaction out of torturing and denying himself? He’s unsure, but he blames Freya for planting the idea in his head, even if he was only waiting for it all along—a new way to self-destruct, a way to test if anyone really loves him. And now he can’t stop.

“Can we go inside? And play with Mjornir?” whines Freya once they are all sufficiently high.

Mjornir, the affectionate golden retriever everyone loves but Loki, is waiting for them in the living room, and immediately starts licking Freya’s face. Loki feels like Thor’s dog fucking hates him, so all he can do is hate him back.

“It’s too bad Thor is at work,” says Freya, scratching Mjornir behind his floppy ears.

“Maybe we could just go to the dining hall for lunch?” suggests Sigyn.

“I have a paper due soon,” grumbles Loki, bitterly watching as his friends pay unreasonable amounts of attention to Thor’s dog. “And I have a problem set for calc.”

“I’m not going to the dining hall,” says Freya. “It’s worse than Dominos. It’s all carbs. I have food in my room.”

Loki can’t stand to hear them talk about food, not when his mind fixates on it so easily, and especially not when he’s this stoned and can feel the onset of munchies and is aware of how painfully hungry he is. He can have a cheese stick, possibly some applesauce, and it’ll taste heavenly. He’ll be ravenous. Disgusting. Weed makes him hungry and useless and he hates it.

“Well, I’m going,” says Sigyn. “I think they have nacho bar today. You don’t want to come, Loki?”

“No, too busy,” he says shortly.

“Are you just gonna be alone here until Thor gets back?”

“It helps me to work if I’m alone.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking _sure_ ,” Loki hisses.

“Okay, okay. Sorry,” says Sigyn. “ _Freya_. You have to go with me, then,” she whines. “I hate being stoned in the dining hall by myself.”

“I told you, no one can tell you’re high…”

But Loki can tell, as he sends them off, that they will end up in the dining hall, together. Ultimately, Loki needs his alone time. He loves his friends, but they are able to just hang out for hours in a way he is not.

Now he has the house to himself. He savors a cheese stick—pulling each strand like he is tearing apart the fabrics of the cosmos—and soaks up the afternoon sunlight pouring into the kitchen. Sometimes the sunlight can be beautiful, when it’s soft like this, gently peering through blinds, not assaulting Loki with an obnoxious headache-inducing glow. Yes, this is a good afternoon. He pops another Adderall, to help with the lazy edge of his high, and takes out his calculus book.

 

* * *

 

Loki smokes a cigarette on the balcony; hours have passed since his friends left, and the sun is setting. His problem set is so stressful—he is tragically slow at working through the problems, and the only thing keeping him sane is these frequent smoke breaks. Even though he hardly needs calculus for his majors, he took the damn class because the professor is hot. He’s regretting it every day, but he loves when he’s the only student who shows up for office hours.

Loki barely notices that Thor is out later than usual, but his brother catches him by surprise when he throws open the glass balcony door.

“Having one off your sulks?” Thor says.

Loki doesn't think he looks like he's sulking at all, but people always say that. This is simply how his face looks. Maybe he lives in a state of nonstop sulking.

“I don’t have _sulks_. I am taking a break from my calc homework. It’s taking me fucking forever.”

“Can I bum one?” Thor says suddenly.

“Bum—what?"

“A cigarette, Loki. It has been a stressful day at work. I still crave them often.”

Loki slowly removes one from his pack, thinking this might be a test. Thor quit after college upon Odin and Frigga’s nagging.

“Lighter?” says Thor. He’s already out of his work clothes and in his pajamas.

“So what’s so stressful about work at _Asgard Investments_?” says Loki, mockingly, as he lights Thor’s cigarette for him.

“Father, of course. He’s difficult.” Thor sighs. “Can’t you talk to him? And work out your conflict with him?”

“Father does not want to speak to me,” Loki says, icily. “He _banned_ me from his holiday party.” Loki doesn’t exactly enjoy the party his parents throw every year, and usually he spends most of it in his bedroom, avoiding Odin and Frigga’s high society friends (and admittedly, their children, who are Loki’s friends). And yet it hurts to be told he isn’t wanted there. “All last week, when I was home, he wouldn’t even _look_ at me. What do I have to do with this, anyway? Isn’t this _your_ problem?”

“He asks me constantly if I am keeping you out of trouble. I think he worries, though he shows it in…his way.”

“Do you do any actual work? Or do you just talk about me all day, as you are so _concerned_?”

“No, we didn’t talk about it that much—I just think it would improve his mood if your relationship with him was better.”

"Oh, so this is all my fault,” Loki scoffs, “and I need to stay out of trouble so work will be easier for you?"

“You know, Loki, Mother is also on my case. Asking if I’m feeding you. If you’re sleeping enough.”

“Well, I’m not,” Loki blurts. “I hate your bed.”

“Can you stop complaining about shit for two seconds?” Thor exclaims, nearly shouting. _Ah, there it is_ , Loki thinks, _Thor’s disdain and anger_ , _always hidden behind his false concern_. “You are such an enormous brat about everything! I’ve done everything I could to make you happy! You’re never happy!”

“ _I am never happy_! Thanks for noticing!” Loki cries. His heart is racing, because he has provoked Thor into a rage, and that sends Loki into his defense mode. Before he knows it, he’s wailing, “I have all this pressure to do well in school, even from Mother—I know she only wants to see As, and Father is on the verge of disowning me, and Mother wants me to be happy, and I— _can’t_! And you too! And I know you hate that I am this way, and so does my _boyfriend_ , and it’s weird living with you now, because you just act like everything is okay when it isn’t and I can’t fucking stand it!”

As soon as Loki takes a moment to breathe, Thor yells over him, “ _Stop freaking out! Calm the fuck down!_ I—I don’t know how to handle you when you’re like this,” he adds, his voice still raised, but faltering.

“ _Oh_?” Loki says softly, threateningly. “ _What am I like_?” he challenges.

“I— _I am not doing this_!” Thor throws his cigarette onto the tile and stomps on it. “I’m going inside!”

Loki watches as Thor slams the balcony door behind him. He sits frozen, in shock, unsure what has transpired and unable to remember how it started, not wanting to think about the embarrassing things he said in his rant. As soon as they start to replay in his head, he lights another cigarette, even though it’s getting cold out and he’d really like to go inside and get under his blankets.

Alone, he is left to an onslaught of negative thoughts that always hits him, and he cannot kill them, no matter how much he tries to concentrate on pulling smoke deep into his lungs— _Thor hates me, he left me alone_ , _and I’m being too difficult but I don’t know how to be any other way_.

Frantically, he types a text to Svadilfari, _Where are you? I need you_.

 _I feel so alone_ , he writes, and hits _send_ , because maybe his _boyfriend_ will care.

But if his own brother can’t handle him, then maybe no one can, and maybe he’s not worth the effort anyway.

Loki doesn’t know how long he sits in the lawn chair, curled into himself as his cigarette burns out, before the door slides open again, and he feels Thor’s enormous hand clamping on his shoulder. The sudden touch makes him shudder, and he wants to say _don’t touch me_ , or _get your filthy hand off me_ , but he doesn’t have the strength. Thor is always touching—no one in their family can keep their damn hands to themselves, and Loki finds it _intolerable_.

“Loki, come inside,” Thor says. “I’ll make you tea. I already had a terrible day. We don’t need to fight on top of it. Just—get back inside and stop moping here. Please?”

“I will,” Loki says in his prickliest voice, “after this cigarette.” He realizes his neglected cigarette is nearly out, so he removes another from his pack.

Thor shakes his head, but does not press the issue.

Loki’s face is wet with tears he hadn’t even realized he was crying, and his nose is runny and the smoke makes it itchy. He needs a tissue but resigns himself to a pathetic sniffle.

When Loki finally goes back inside—because it is, in fact, very cold on the balcony—he finds Thor on the sofa, snuggled under his tacky leopard-print heating blanket, holding a beer bottle, and watching Spongebob on his big screen plasma television.

Loki checks his phone again, and the lack of a response from Svadilfari threatens to send him back to the brink of despair. The blanket is tempting. Wordlessly, Loki gets under it. Immediately, he finds that the warmth soothes him. For a while, they watch the show and do not speak.

“You do remember that Father actually did disown me, right?” Thor says finally.

“Yeah, so?” Loki says.

Thor, at Loki's age, was arrested for underage drinking. Loki only got caught by pub safe, not actually arrested. And so far it has stayed out of the press. Thor's arrest was a public scandal, and that’s probably the only reason their father was so angry at him anyway.

“So he re-owned me. And he only almost-disowned you.”

“Whatever,” mutters Loki.

He looks at his phone briefly; Svadi still hasn’t texted back. Figures he doesn’t care at all, Loki thinks, and he hates his boyfriend for never being there when he needs him most. He shouldn’t let it get to him, and certainly not in front of his brother, but he’s sniffling again.

“Aww, come here,” says Thor. “You need a hug.”

By this point, it is too late for resistance of any kind. Thor has decided Loki needs a hug—and so he attacks, his big arms swaddling Loki in an awkward embrace.

“Get _off_ me,” Loki groans.

“Not happening. We’re gonna ‘hug it out,’” Thor says, squeezing tighter.

Frigga is to blame for the suggestion that Thor “hug it out,” a suggestion which he took to naturally, given his affinity for invading the personal space of others.

“Mother is insane, and this is ridiculous,” Loki growls.

He has _boundaries_ and Thor is just flouting every one without any shame, like he always does. It’s disgusting. Loki squirms and wriggles to get out of his brother’s arms, but Thor isn’t letting him go. When Loki surrenders and lets himself relax, he must admit to himself that being engulfed like this is somewhat soothing. He doesn’t know why it makes him cry more or why his mind still won’t leave that dark place. _What’s wrong with me?_ he thinks. _Am I cursed?_ So far no medication has managed to kill it.

Loki makes another effort to free himself from the hug, and this time, Thor lets him pull away.

“I don’t feel well,” mutters Loki, burrowing himself under the blanket, looking away from his brother. Physically and emotionally, he’s wrecked.

“What’s wrong?” says Thor, and when Loki offers no answer, he pries, “Have you eaten today?”

“ _Yes_ , _”_ Loki says, maybe a little too quickly, but he had that cheese stick and that applesauce, after all.

“You’re not eating enough,” says Thor. “I never see you eat.”

As if on cue, Loki’s iPhone buzzes, and his heart jumps because _it’s his boyfriend—_ and when he looks, he is not let down—Svadi’s name is in big letters on the screen. “My Svadi,” he purrs as soon as the phone is pressed to his cheek. He’s so grateful for a way out of his awkward conversation with Thor, and now he’s going to make Thor uncomfortable with this phone call. “I missed you _so much_ ,” he adds, even though he saw Svadi this morning—but it was only briefly to get his weed.

“I missed you as well, my Loki. Are you available tonight?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I do have lots of homework,” he says, coyly. Svadi can’t see, but he’s smiling so much the sides of his face hurt, and his heart is screaming _OF COURSE I’M AVAILABLE_ , because Svadi called, and that means he _cares_. “But I _guess_ I could pencil you in.”

“Spend the night with me,” says Svadilfari.

“Come pick me up, then. I’m _not_ taking public transportation,” Loki says, standing up. A giggle escapes him, and he offers no explanation to Thor before running to his room so he can start packing his things for the night.

“Then I expect you to be ready to go out the door at eight.”

Loki giggles again. “Well, you’ll have to let me make myself pretty.”

He has less than hour to get ready, and on one hand that’s not enough time to make himself look like less of a wreck, and on the other, it’s too much time, and he wants his lover here now.

His mind is racing. As soon as he gets off the phone, he crushes two Adderalls on his desk, forming the blue powder into a thick line. He lowers his face to the desk and snorts up the line messily. He doesn’t want to go back to the way he felt ten minutes ago. Now he’s amped.

Savoring the sweet afterdrip in his throat, Loki pulls on his fishnet stockings and searches his drawers for wherever his mother folded his shortest miniskirt.

Admiring himself in the mirror, he thinks about how Freya’s moonstone necklace would really complete this outfit. He should see if she’d let him borrow it sometime.

His hair is tousled, kind of like sex hair, except it’s more like “I was crying and then cuddled with my big brother” hair. His eyes are red, which is from the crying, and there are dark bags underneath them. A little concealer can fix that up, and the eyeliner will help him look more alive too. He applies his makeup, but not _too_ much black eyeliner, because Svadi has commented that it makes him look “whorish.”

For a long while, he plays with his hair and his face, until finally it’s time to slip on his Docs, throw his readings and laptop into his Marc Jacobs bag, and grab his phone and keys. It’s 7:50, and he’s ready.

When Loki emerges into the living room, Thor hasn’t moved from his spot on the couch, and Spongebob is still on the television.

Thor stares like this is the first time he’s seen Loki in a skirt (and _it isn’t_ ). “What exactly are you wearing?” he demands.

“Clothes, obviously. I’m going out,” says Loki, continuing to the front door. Thor follows.

“To see that asshole of a boyfriend you have? Do you plan to spend the night?”

“He’s not an asshole, and yeah, I’m sleeping over,” Loki says, his hand on the doorknob.

“I can’t just let you go out looking like—that. I’m supposed to be watching you!”

“Yeah? Well you can watch me leave! I’m an adult, and I can do what I want.”

“Yeah, well, right now you’re in trouble because of doing what you want, so you can’t, because you’re not responsible or an adult! If you get in more trouble, it’s all on me. Does Mother even know your boyfriend is, like, _thirty_? And a dealer?”

“Mother _knows_ that he is a mature business owner, which is more than I can say about you!” Loki fires back. In truth, Frigga does not know a thing about Loki’s boyfriend. “And he’s waiting for me downstairs. I’m _leaving_!”

“Fine!” Thor shouts. “If that’s what I get for trying to be concerned, then go ahead! I _won’t_ worry about you! I won’t care what you get yourself into—”

Loki can tell Thor is lost in his angry rant, so he slips out the door, slamming it behind him. He can hear his brother shouting after him. He doesn’t care.

As he climbs into Svadi’s car, Thor is calling his phone, and he ignores it.

 

* * *

 

“Why is my beautiful girlfriend so glum?” says Svadi, pulling Loki onto his lap so they are facing one another. Svadi slips his hands under Loki’s skirt and grabs his ass, which makes Loki flinch for a moment, but it’s totally hot to be groped like this. His stockings are already off.

They’re relaxing on Svadi’s bed, sharing a joint. Loki doesn’t mean to look sad. This is a booty call, and he’s supposed to be charming and sexy and not sad at all. He wants to be the light in his boyfriend’s life. But his mood is utterly shattered and all he feels is anxious and uncomfortable. On his phone are three missed calls from Thor. His phone is on Svadi’s dresser, and to check for messages, he’d have to get up from straddling his boyfriend.

“I hate my brother,” says Loki. “He doesn’t approve of our relationship.”

“You shouldn’t say you hate your brother, Loki,” says Svadilfari. “His reaction to our relationship is expected, of course. It also does not matter, so there is no need to worry yourself over it.”

“I’m not _worried_ ,” Loki says, hastily. “But I hate the way he treats me.”

“You’re just his little brother. That’s how these things are. God, today, I made one of my top employees head of the feasibility project, and he—”

“Like how he says I’m not _responsible_ and I’m gonna get myself in trouble,” Loki interrupts. “Like he’s so _reformed_. Even though really he was mooning people outside a bar, like, a year ago.”

Svadilfari pushes Loki off his lap but says nothing, and now Loki know he’s done something wrong.

“Fine, if you don’t care about me, then I won’t talk. _You’re_ the one that asked what I was sad about.”

“This is what I get for dating an eighteen-year-old with limited emotional maturity,” Svadilfari says, shaking his head.

Loki’s brain scrambles for a way to fix this. “Yeah, but I’m young and hot and you love showing me off,” he tries, climbing back on top of his unresponsive boyfriend. “It must make you feel on top of the world, to date a barely legal college freshman—”

“Cut it out, Loki, you’re being annoying.”

Loki backs away and rolls over on the bed, stretching to reach for his cigarettes on the nightstand. “Go ahead, remind me I can’t do anything right,” he says, searching for the lighter. Svadi finds it and lights Loki’s cigarette for him. Loki takes a drag and keeps talking, “Like I don’t already know I’m a disappointment, and I’m annoying….” And then Svadi’s hands are on him, sneaking under his skirt again, removing his panties. “What are you doing?” says Loki as Svadi turns him over so he’s on his back.

“You need a distraction,” Svadi says. “This will help.”

The touch is enough to remind him that he’s wanted. He just needs to relax and stop being so self-centered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was difficult for me and took me nearly a month, so i am very very excited to finally be posting it.
> 
> i am incapable of writing by myself and need endless amounts of support, so as usual, i have a list of wonderful friends who helped me with ideas and listened to me while i rambled about this chapter: [cheesings](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cheesings/pseuds/cheesings), [puzzlie](http://puzzlie.tumblr.com), and [celeryy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/celeryy). and [majikthise](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Majikthise/pseuds/Majikthise) not only helped me write but also proofread for me!
> 
> next episode: loki cuts sif's hair while she's sleeping.


	4. four

 

_there's an old voice in my head that's holding me back_

_well, tell her that I miss our little talks_

_soon it will be over and buried with our past_

_we used to play outside when we were young_

_and full of life and full of love_

—Of Monsters and Men, “Little Talks”

 

Svadilfari has work. He dumps Loki at Thor’s house in the early hours of the morning, when the sun is only teasing the horizon.

Loki, in his excitement to see Svadi, did not pack a change of clothes. He does the walk of shame from Svadi’s car to Thor’s front door.

As Loki slinks back inside the house, cool light spills from the crack of the doorway to the carpet, softly glowing. He is hoping Thor is still asleep, or maybe already at work—Loki just needs to get out of these clothes, hopefully without any further embarrassment, and into something comfortable.

Loki didn’t get any homework done last night because Svadilfari wouldn’t let him. He will spend his morning curled up in bed with a full pot of coffee and the rest of his calculus problem set. Minimal interaction with Thor seems to be the best-case scenario for a peaceful morning. Loki learned to enjoy mornings, because often, he does not sleep well. He has trouble relaxing at night, and then he rises at four, five, six, unable to get back to sleep.

He may as well see if there’s anything interesting on the news, so he wanders into the living room. He does not expect to find Thor, in only his _boxers_ , passed out on the couch, his enormous arms wrapped around the figure of a woman wearing a black sequined party dress, torn at the sleeve. He’s drooling into her long, golden hair.

They totally fucked on that couch. And Thor is totally going to be late for work.

When Thor and Loki both still both lived at their parents’ penthouse, and Loki found himself awakening at five in the morning, anxious thoughts racing in his mind, he would slip into his big brother’s room and hold his hand over Thor’s face. Loki would draw it closer and closer, so that he was nearly touching his brother—testing how long he could stand above Thor’s bed, and how close his hand could get, before Thor woke.

Thor would finally realize Loki was there, in his half-asleep awareness, and he would hit Loki in the face. Immediately, Loki would scurry out the room, terrified that his brother would shout if he knew Loki was sneaking into his room to watch him sleep.

Now, just like he did as a child, Loki dangles a hand above his brother’s face.

He gets no response. Both Thor and the woman are out cold.

Disgust and rage overcome Loki as it sinks in—they _fucked_ on that couch.

 _Of course_ the second Loki was away for the night, Thor took the opportunity to go out and fuck some random girl. Clearly Loki’s presence has been a burden on Thor this whole time, preventing him from his exciting life of wild and crazy sex. Except actually Thor probably has boring straight people sex.

Loki withdraws his hand. For a moment he stares at the woman’s hair, strands of which have fallen into his brother’s disgusting open mouth. It’s _hideous_ and he wants nothing more than to cut it all off.

He dashes to his bedroom and searches the desk for his manicure scissors. When he finally finds them, he realizes his hand is shaking. His whole body is shaking with uncontrollable anger.

By the time Loki gets back to the couch, Thor and the woman don’t seem to have stirred. Loki asks himself, _am I really going to do this?_ And then he decides that _hell yes,_ he is, because Thor fucking deserves it, and within instants he is cutting off a long yellow lock. It looks over-bleached anyway. He is doing her a favor, really. He keeps going.

Loki is going back in for the third snip when Thor groans and rolls over. His eyes snap open, and Loki is _so fucked._ This time,it’s too late to run.

“Loki?” Thor mumbles. It’s neutral, confused. He just doesn’t get why Loki’s there. And then—“What are you _doing_?”

Thor’s movements and words wake up the woman before Loki is able to withdraw the scissors from her hair. Now it is clear to everyone what Loki was doing, no matter how sleepy and hungover and dazed they are.

And then the woman is _screaming_ , and Thor is pushing her away to lunge toward Loki, who is standing there, stunned, aware that he is wearing a skirt and maybe looking odd—and the woman is yelling at Loki, “ _What the hell were you doing_?” and to Thor, she’s demanding, “What is even going _on_ here?” and Thor is grabbing Loki by the shoulders, shaking him, and roaring, “ _WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU_?” At this point Loki’s scissors have dropped to the floor, and he’s trying to prepare a clever response. He doesn’t have one, so he retorts by throwing “What the fuck is wrong with _you_?” right back into Thor’s face. By this point, the woman must have determined that she is not in any immediate danger, because she yells over the two brothers—“SHUT UP!”

And then, she implores, “Can someone please explain to me what the fuck just happened?”

“ _MY HORSEFUCKER OF A LITTLE BROTHER_ —“ begins Thor. “I—I am so sorry—what did you say your name was?”

“Sif,” she answers coolly. She grabs at her hair, fingers searching for the damage. Loki is sure that she knows Thor’s name, considering who their father is, which makes it worse that he didn’t bother to remember hers. “Fucking hell,” she says. “This is the worst one-night stand ever.”

“ _Sif_ …I only hope it wasn’t the worst before—this,” says Thor. “I cannot even begin to apologize for the actions of my _ASSHOLE BROTHER_ —”

“Yeah?” says Loki sharply. “By all means, speak like I’m not here. And what about _your_ actions?”

“ _MY_ actions? You cut— _Sif’s_ hair!”

“You had disgusting straight people sex! In plain view! On the couch I _sit on_!”

“It’s _my_ couch!” says Thor.

“And I’m not a straight person,” supplies Sif.

“Really?” says Thor. “That’s kind of hot!”

“Oh, you are so gross!” cries Loki. “ _Objectifying_ her for her sexuality—”

“Okay, thanks for standing up for me and all,” says Sif. “But why were you cutting my hair off?”

“Because—” begins Loki, and he finds that the words are failing him, that he cannot insult this stranger to her face, as much as he wants to tell her that her dye job is as repugnant as her choice of fuckbuddies.

“God, well, clearly, I have gotten in the way of this sibling drama,” says Sif, standing up, straightening her party dress. “Now—where’s your bathroom…”

“Down the hall, to the left,” Thor says absently, before turning back to Loki and raising his voice again, “Seriously, Loki, you go out of your way to be an ass and fuck things up for people who are _trying_ to help you! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What the fuck is wrong with _you_ , having _sex_ when I could’ve walked right in on it?”

“You were _gone_! Doing god-knows- _what_ with that asshole of a boyfriend.”

“Whatever, I know you don’t _approve_ of our _love._ But at least I know Svadilfari, at least he’s not just some random pickup from _what_? A _bar_?” Loki snarls. Thor doesn’t need to know how Loki and Svadilfari met. But even if it was a bar—they felt a _connection_. They knew each other’s _names_. At the very least, they are _now_ quite well acquainted, and Thor and Sif are not.

“Yeah, fuck you Loki—I went to a bar. Because I was so upset over my little brother and that _creep_ taking advantage of him! And you were ignoring all my calls!”

“Because you were being _intrusive_!”

“Stop yelling, Loki, Mjolnir is probably hiding under my bed, terrified!”

“Then why don’t you stop? Maybe it’s because you have _no self-control_ , and even though you act all _sanctimonious_ —“

Loki stops the instant Sif returns from the bathroom with her hair fixed up—as much as she could fix it, with the random tufts missing. She’s checking messages on her phone and looking through her purse.

“Look, don’t go yet,” Thor begs her. “Please. I am so sorry for all of this. I know I am the worst person you could possibly have gone home with. I’ll take you to get your hair done. Or just give you the money, and you’ll never have to see me again. Just—don’t leave yet—let me make it up to you, somehow. Seriously, I cannot apologize enough for this—“

“Really, I’m more amused than anything at this point,” Sif replies, pulling on a boot. She wears Docs with her sequined party dress, which Loki can respect. “This is—weird. You know, I bet I could tell the tabloids about this.”

“Oh, please don’t do that,” says Thor, no doubt thinking about the time his ass was in the papers, “—just name your price, we’ll work it out—”

“Relax, I’m joking.”

They’re giggling, and it seems flirty and nasty. “Hey, Thor. Don’t you need to go to _work_?” Loki cuts in. He’s not even sure why he hasn’t just locked himself away in his room, but maybe he needs to see how it plays out, knowing it was all his fault.

“Oh, I’m working from home today. You’re not missing work or something, are you, Sif?”

“Nah, and no classes until later tonight. Wow, you really don’t know anything about me.”

“No, but—let me take you to get your hair done then. Please.”

Sif smiles. “Fine, it’s a date. But you might want to get dressed.”

“Right,” Thor says, laughing, looking down at his body as though he didn’t even realize he was in his underwear.

 _Typical,_ thinks Loki. And then he’s left alone with Thor’s one-night stand— _Sif_ —and she’s just staring at him as though amused.

Loki wants to scream and vomit and kill them all. He storms to his room, where he has a stack of twenties in his top drawer, and he grabs _who knows how many bills_ —enough to get a fancy haircut, whatever.

When Thor emerges from his bedroom, fully dressed, Loki shoves the wad of cash at him without a word.

“Don’t give me your _drug money_ , Loki.”

“It’s the least I can fucking do,” Loki hisses. “ _Take it_ , you disgusting oaf.”

Finally Loki can take off the fucking skirt and stockings and get into his oversized school hoodie and pajama pants and do his goddamn homework. He’s in no state to concentrate on it, but he will have to make himself, because the thought of a zero—and failure, or even the _B_ he thinks he’s getting in calculus—is frightening.

Loki climbs onto his bed, letting his bare feet dangle off the edge, when suddenly he feels something cold and wet pressed against his toes. Mjolnir didn’t hide under _Thor’s_ bed. And now she’s licking his feet.

“Get off me, you mangy beast,” he says. “Go _away_.” He has had it with Thor’s dog slobbering all over him. He feels almost guilty when she does go away, leaving him alone in his room.

He flips open his calculus book and tries to focus on limit theorems. The throbbing in his head makes it difficult to read the page, and once he has managed to absorb two sentences, Mjolnir is back.

“I thought I told you to go away,” Loki says.

She’s giving him those damned puppy dog eyes, and in her mouth, she is holding a brown stuffed vulture toy, its fur worn from her barbaric biting and chewing.

Loki is scowling back, until he realizes his heart isn’t really in it—he’s too exhausted. And Mjolnir just wants attention. Loki knows how that is. _Fine, then._ He’ll give it to her.

She jumps onto his bed, dropping the drool-covered toy onto his clean sheets. He sighs and picks up the disgusting stuffed vulture. Half-heartedly, he waves it around while she snaps at it and pants happily.

Soon she loses interest in the toy and puts her paw on Loki’s knee. He pushes her away— _who knows where those paws have been_. Seconds later, he puts her paw back. This happens about three times, and then he fucking surrenders to her cute puppy dog ways.

He is _so_ tired.

And that’s how Loki ends up snuggling with Mjolnir on his bed until both fall asleep.

 

* * *

 

At first, Loki doesn’t expect to ever see Sif again, and yet, over the next week, Loki finds that she has become something of a fixture at Thor’s house. Her hair has been chopped into a pixie cut—“I’d been meaning to do it anyway, really,” is her explanation. Apparently Loki did her a _favor_. He hates her.

Loki and Thor are barely speaking, which means he needs to avoid both of them, who are frequently lurking in the living room or kitchen.

And Sif acts like she owns the goddamned kitchen. On Thursday, when Loki is brewing a pot of coffee for an all nighter, he catches Sif inspecting the fridge. Thor is in the living room, either working on his computer or playing a video game, and the latter seems more likely.

“This your applesauce?” Sif says, holding up an individual serving size container. “Can I get some of that?”

“No,” says Loki, rudely. Applesauce is out of the question. It is Loki’s safe food. “Get your meaty claws off my food.”

“ _Okay, okay_ , no applesauce.” Sif backs away from the fridge and presumably retreats back to having more boring straight people sex with Thor.

Finals are fast approaching, and Freya’s friends are hitting Loki up for Adderall, like, _nonstop_. Loki knows he is a disappointment to Svadi for not partying and not seeking out more customers, but at least his (only two) friends are well connected, and they appreciate the stuff Loki gets them. Svadi’s weed is better than most of the shit the campus dealers have, and Adderall is harder to find than Ritalin, which is the choice drug of the school’s health center. So everyone is getting Ritalin—Freya and Sigyn both have prescriptions, even though neither of them has been diagnosed with ADHD—but everyone wants Adderall instead, and Svadi has it.

And Loki is content to lock himself in his room, studying, staying out of Thor and Sif’s way. He barely goes onto campus when he does not have class—and when students want to pick up from him, he often finds himself sending Freya and Sigyn to handle it.

Svadi is distant lately—maybe he’s mad at Loki for being annoying all the time. He says he’s busy with his business. He says Loki doesn’t really understand what it means to work. Maybe he’d be more attentive if Loki showed more of an interest in his life. He’s not sure exactly what Svadi would be mad about, but he knows better than to ask and risk hearing his boyfriend recite all Loki’s flaws.

Frigga visits on a Monday morning, before Thor has left for work, to take Loki to his psychiatrist appointment. Apparently Odin decreed that this arrangement was necessary to “make sure he goes”—because they don’t trust him.

Frigga and Thor are talking in the kitchen, maybe making coffee or tea. Loki is still getting dressed—in his baggy college hoodie, which he has found himself wearing increasingly often. He’s feeling uncomfortable in his usual tight black clothes, and he just wants to drown in fabrics. His body is disgusting and ugly. He knows he’s too skinny, but that it’s still not good enough—and at the same time, he is aware his mother would notice, and he does not want that attention.

Eavesdropping comes easily with Loki’s family, as they are loud and overly expressive and annoying, so he can hear almost everything his mother and brother are saying.

“Yeah, Mother, I’m fine. It’s all fine,” Thor is saying.

“Are you _sure_?” their mother is prying. “How have you been getting along with your brother?”

“I hardly _see_ him. He’s working hard on his finals. He seems so stressed out by them, but, it’s Loki, and he’ll be fine….I mean, it is only school…I don’t know why he gets so worked up…”

“Oh, that’s how my little Loki is. Are you sure he’s getting enough rest? Taking care of himself?”

Loki cringes. He realizes he would rather not be able to hear, but now he needs to know where this is going.

“ _Of course not_!” Thor exclaims. Loki couldn’t truly expect his brother to lie for him, not for more than a few moments. “He never does! And then, there’s his boyfriend—I can’t believe you support their relationship.”

 _Fuck_.

Loki is so dead.

No, _Thor_ is so dead, because Loki is going to murder him in his sleep.

Anxiously, he awaits his mother’s response—“ _Loki’s in a relationship_?”

“He said you _knew_!” cries Thor. “How could I fall for that?”

“No, I absolutely did _not_ know.”

“The guy is at least thirty, and a _creep_ , and I _know_ Loki was selling drugs for him—probably still _is_. He sometimes spends the night at his place—”

“And you let him?”

“He told me _you_ let him! And I couldn’t stop him! Why do I have to be responsible for him? He just does what he wants, and I don’t know how to handle him!”

Loki hates his brother and to a lesser degree hates his mother, and he never wants to face them, but he also doesn’t want this conversation to continue, because Thor is going to fuck things up so much for him. He grabs his phone and keys as quickly as possible and hurries to interrupt.

“Oh, Thor, honey, I’m so sorry,” Frigga is saying, gently. “I know I’ve asked too much of you, and it isn’t fair. At the very least, Loki is better off than he was—”

“By all means,” says Loki, appearing in the kitchen, arms crossed, “talk about me as though I can’t hear.”

“Loki, my baby, I have missed you so much,” his mother says right away, ignoring his comment and drawing him into a hug. He keeps his arms crossed defensively, positive that she is angry and hates him, and that makes him resentful that she would behave so falsely.

“Well, surely we going to be late if we don’t leave soon, she says, releasing Loki from the hug. “Put your coat on, love.”

She gives Thor a hug and kiss goodbye and whispers, “We’ll talk later.”

In the car Loki sits silently, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets. After a few tense minutes, just as Loki feared, his mother begins, “You didn’t tell me you have a boyfriend.”

“It never came up,” Loki says.

“Is it because he’s thirty? That you didn’t want to tell me?”

“He’s twenty-four, not thirty,” snaps Loki, “and a grad student. He just looks older. Thor is trying to sabotage me!”

“That is still a bit old for you,” Frigga sighs. “And I know nothing about him.”

“His name is Svadilfari, and he’s from Iceland, and he _makes me happy_.”

“I suppose you would not admit to me if he was the reason you were selling drugs—”

“I _told_ you, Mother, it was just Freya, and I only sold the weed to a few friends who asked about it.”

Loki isn’t really sure what lies he has told at this point and if they even all match up with each other. But she seems to accept this explanation.

“Well, if that’s true—and if he makes you _happy_ ….One more thing, though—Thor says you spend the night at his house. I can’t control you, but I have to ask—are you at least using protection?”

“ _Mother_. It’s not like I’m going to get pregnant,” Loki says, and then realizes how incriminating that is, so he quickly adds, “But yes—we _are_.” Which is a lie, but it’s for his mother’s benefit.

“I hope that’s true,” says Frigga. Loki knows that she would prefer to believe his lies, which is one reason they often work, even when they are inconsistent. “Well, maybe you could bring your boyfriend around for dinner or something, over break? So we could meet him?”

“I’d say I could bring him to the holiday party,” Loki says bitterly. “Except that I _can’t_ , because Father banned me.”

“Oh, Loki, you know I barely even see you at the party. Because you hide in your room. You always hated that we made you go.”

Loki can’t think of a clever response, because he doesn’t want to admit that being banned hurts, and he doesn’t even really want to have another discussion about his father.

“I don’t want to go to this appointment,” he says, changing the subject. “I don’t _like_ this doctor.”

“Loki, you know that the school would only let you stay if you saw someone who was licensed in substance abuse. Thor saw Dr. Heimdall when his underage drinking charges required him. He’s very qualified.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have a substance abuse problem.”

“I know, but you did get caught _selling drugs_. So this is what they required. And you can still see Dr. Eir if you want.”

“I didn’t like her either. She said I was manipulative—I don’t think she liked me. I don’t think Dr. Heimdall does either.”

“Maybe you could try being more honest with him?”

“Yeah, whatever,” says Loki. Dr. Heimdall tends to ask questions and then stare, waiting for an answer. Loki never knows if he should continue talking or shut up, or if he’s even saying the right things.

“And you could try to make things less difficult for your brother too. Thor is trying his best.”

“Yeah, I could try,” Loki mutters. Luckily, they’ve arrived at the office, and this line of conversation doesn’t need to continue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, as usual, i've received a lot of support from friends throughout my writing process, since my process mostly consists of me being like "wahhh i need ideas"
> 
> in particular, for this chapter, i must thank [celeryy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/celeryy) who has an [adorable golden retriever](http://alienswamp.tumblr.com/post/74573234706/aesthetic-dissonance-hello-yes-this-is-my-puppy) and inspired me greatly by telling me all about what her doge would do, enabling me to write accurate doge cuddles for loki. and she also looked over the document and offered some other suggestions!
> 
> also in particular, i must thank [majikthise](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Majikthise/pseuds/Majikthise) who read for my glaring errors (and there were many), and who talked through many of my ideas with me out loud, suggesting utterly perfect places to take conversations.
> 
> this story is starting to take shape, and i am thinking it may take me 7 or 8 chapters to tell it, so like...novella length.
> 
> next episode: odin's holiday party, as inspired by the lokasenna.
> 
> 3/22/14 okay i am sorry guys i am taking FOREVER to finish the new chapter but please have faith that i have not abandoned this story. i have over 4k written, but i'm reworking the whole thing because i didn't like it, and i'm slow. but hopefully i can update soon! :)


	5. five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i mentioned odin's holiday party, but that will come in the next chapter because i restructured and split things up. currently, my outline is for seven or eight chapters at most, so we are approaching the climax.
> 
> definitely keep my content warnings in mind for this chapter.
> 
> no one but me has proofread this, so all mistakes are purely my responsibility, but i am posting now because i am so damn antsy!
> 
> no title change as of yet but i will do that eventually when i find the right lyric or whatever.

_think feeling no emotion_  
_step into the ocean_  
_now my mind is everywhere_  
_and drowning is the only thought I have_  
  
_walk into the water_  
_boiling as it's hotter_  
_I was looking everywhere_  
_and drowning is the only thought I have_  
  
_'cause every time you look walk away_  
_I think I love you more each day_

—Grimes, “Ambrosia”

 

“The French exam will be a piece of cake. I studied for nine hours yesterday,” Loki is saying conversationally. He’s splayed out on his lover’s bed wearing the green leather collar Svadilfari gifted to him—and cat ears. He is a sex kitten, sipping his third drink and picking at his Chinese takeout veggies. He’s not sure how much rum Svadi poured in his Diet Coke, but it tastes strong and he’s talking loudly. He’ll definitely puke it all later. “It’s my first semester, and I _need_ to get straight _A_ s.”

“I’m sure you will,” Svadi says. “Did you do anything with that oxy?”

Loki thinks to the thirty pills he is supposed to sell. He’ll call Freya about it later. He can tell he is boring his boyfriend with his talk of school and grades, but he continues anyway, “With Thor, my parents were happy with _B_ s, but with me, they’re never happy with anything. The doctor I had to see told me I shouldn’t even be in school. He said I should be in a treatment program. I’ll show them all. I hate that I have calculus first, though. Fuck, it’s in the morning. I shouldn’t even be here. It’s fine, I’ll just wake up really early to study more.”

“What is that?” Svadi says, pointing to Loki’s thigh with his chopsticks.

“Hmm?” Loki says before looking down at his leg. He’s wearing only panties and his boyfriend’s hoodie, which is riding up to reveal an array of fresh deep cuts on his upper thigh.

“I thought you told me you would not do that anymore.”

“It’s nothing,” Loki says smoothly, rearranging himself on the bed so the marks are hidden from sight. “I _like_ the way it feels. I’m a masochist.”

Svadi plays with Loki’s hair and caresses his cheek, silent for a moment before saying, “It is nearly impossible to have an honest conversation with you.”

“I _am_ being honest.”

“Please, Loki. I don’t like to see my beautiful girlfriend hurting. You could at least be open with me.”

“I’m not hurting. I was just relieving some tension. You know I’m under so much stress. It _helps_.”

Svadilfari shakes his head. “You’ve hardly touched your food. I worry. Maybe you should be in that…treatment program. Your parents would pay for somewhere really nice. Like one of those rehab facilities they show on Intervention. You’d be happier there than here.”

“ _What_?” says Loki, his heart rate speeding up, rage bubbling inside him, which has been happening with increasing frequency. His eyes are brimming with tears again. Sometimes he feels like there are always tears threatening to fall. “You want me locked up? You want to just get rid of me, get me out of your sight so you don’t have to deal with me?”

“This is exactly what I mean about immaturity,” Svadi says, keeping his cool. “I never said any of that.”

“But you don’t want to deal with me, do you?” Loki says softly. “No one does. I’m fucked up and I’ll never be good enough…even with a perfect 4.0.” Then he gains a little nerve and stands up. “If you don’t like that I’m immature—maybe don’t date a teenager!”

“Loki, sit down. _Calm down_.”

“Why should I calm down? You think I’m _immature_. You _hate_ me! Every time I talk, you say I’m an idiot. I think you only keep me around so you can fuck me whenever you please, after you’ve gotten me drunk, no less—” Loki pauses only to gasp for breath, and his body shakes with a deep, shuddering sob before he continues to wail, ”So if I’m so awful and stupid—why do you keep me around? Because I’m practically jailbait? _Because of my tight ass?_ ”

“ _Because I_ love _you, Loki!_ ” Svadi shouts over Loki’s ranting. “I love you and I care! Even if you are a spoiled child and a compulsive liar. It matters to me that you’re hurting yourself and doing all these things you do for attention. You are my beautiful girlfriend, Loki, and I can’t stand to see you unhappy.”

Tears roll down Loki’s face and drip off his chin. Svadilfari doesn’t love him at all.

“Come here,” Svadi says gently. “Get back on the bed.”

Slowly, Loki climbs onto the sheets. He tries to take deep breaths to calm himself, like his mother taught him, but breathing makes him lightheaded. In his boyfriend’s arms, he breaks down.

“ _Shh_ ,” Svadi as he peels the tight clothes from Loki’s body and runs his fingers along the old scars criss-crossing Loki’s wrists before binding them with the matching green restraints.

Tears are drying on Loki’s cheeks when he lets Svadilfari take him. When it is over, he lays prone, his face shoved into the silky pillowcase, naked and ashamed.

They share a cigarette like always. After stubbing it out, Loki needs another. He does not talk. And when he’s down to the filter, he returns to ugly crying.

“I’m garbage,” he whispers. “I have my calc exam tomorrow morning and French in the afternoon and I haven’t studied enough at all. _I’m so fucked!_ ”

“Loki, you are so smart, and I know you will do well—” Svadi reaches to put his arm around Loki, moving closer to spoon him.

“ _Don’t touch me!_ ” Loki hisses. “ _You don’t know!_ ”

“We should go to sleep now, Loki,” Svadi says, wrapping his arm around Loki despite his struggling. “I have a meeting with an important client in the morning. And you have your exam.”

Loki only sobs harder, surrendering to the touch.

 _Maybe Svadilfari will miss his meeting because he’s taking care of me,_ Loki thinks. He wants everyone to feel the intense pain he is feeling. He wants to die.

“What’s wrong with me?” Loki says softly. “I shouldn’t be here. I’m pathetic.” He got Svadi’s text— _sure, come over_ —when he was already on the bus to his boyfriend’s house. If Svadi had said _no_ , Loki doesn’t know what he would’ve done. Kill himself, probably. And that still seems like a pretty good option, all things considered.

“I don’t know what I can do for you,” Svadilfari mutters into Loki’s ear, and there is an edge of irritation to his voice. “Is there nothing that can make you stop crying?”

Loki rolls over and curls himself into a ball.

Through the haze of his pain, he does not realize, at first, who Svadilfari is calling—

His ugly sobs quiet and he registers his boyfriend saying his brother’s name, and something about Loki—“ _he won’t stop crying_.”

And Loki doesn’t stop crying; he continues for the next twenty minutes or so until Svadilfari gets up from the bed to answer the door.

“Please. I have an early meeting,” Svadilfari is saying to Thor.

“Yeah, I have work early in the morning too.”

“I trust you will know what to do with your little brother. Do take good care of him. He is very dear to me.”

 _How weird is this_ , Loki thinks, _that my boyfriend is handing me over to my brother._

“I think I know how to take care of my own brother, thanks,” growls Thor.

He doesn’t know how to take care of Loki and he never has.

And soon Loki is in his brother’s car, sniffling the whole way home, not daring to glance at Thor. And when Thor finally speaks, it’s to say, “This is why I don’t like him.”

“Because he’s making you deal with me? Because I’m ruining your night?” Loki manages to choke out.

“Because he makes you so upset! And treats you like an object! It makes me so _angry_ , Loki. I know he has you dress up as a girl or whatever—I accept that, Loki, whatever you want to do, but what is with the cat eats? And the collar—it’s like he _owns_ you.”

“It’s role-playing,” snaps Loki. “You don’t know about anything except your stupid boring straight person vanilla sex.”

He likes that Svadilfari owns him because it means he’s wanted. Right now, Svadi doesn’t seem to want him at all. _No one does._

And then Loki’s in his bed—his bed in Thor’s house, that is, which isn’t really his. Loki has some awareness of changing into normal pajamas, and Thor helps him remove his bondage collar because Loki’s hands shake.

His brother gives lays Loki on his bed with the heated blanket and sets a glass of water within his reach.

“Do you need anything else?” Thor says.

“I hate everything,” Loki says in response. “I hate being like this. I don’t even want to _be_ here. I’m tired, Thor, tired of _trying_ , and being perfect, and just, everything. It’s never going to be good enough. Something in me is _wrong_. I just want to go away. I want it all to go away.”

“Loki, don’t say that,” Thor says, coming closer to Loki immediately. “You’re my baby brother, and I love you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“It would be better for you.”

Thor draws Loki into a hug Loki doesn’t have the strength to fight. “No, no. Don’t think that. I love you. We all do.”

“You _don’t_ ,” says Loki, clinging tighter to his brother. “No one does. But why would you? I’m nothing but a burden. I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re drunk, and it’s late.”

“I have to _study_.”

“No, you have to get to sleep.” He rubs Loki’s back.

“I can’t sleep,” says Loki. “I want to sleep and never wake up, but I can’t. I need to study.”

“You are way too drunk to study,” says Thor. “You know you can have Dr. Heimdall write you a note. Give yourself tomorrow to rest. They will understand.”

“Father won’t. I can’t. I have to take my exams.”

“You can take a leave of absence.” Thor continues to rub Loki’s back. “Our parents will understand. Taking a semester off is no big deal. It was fine for me.”

Loki sniffs. “Not for _me_. I’m so close, Thor. So close. I have to do this.”

“We can figure it out. It’ll be okay.”

“I’m taking the exams,” says Loki. “Taking them and getting all As, and that’ll show Father.”

“Just get some rest, Loki.”

Loki closes his eyes and feels his world swaying to the side and pulling him down. At some point in the night, he becomes aware of Mjolnir’s presence as a warm lump next to his legs.

 

* * *

 

When Loki wakes, the house is silent. For a few moments he lays, calmly, enjoying peace. And then he gains awareness of the throbbing headache that is splitting his skull in two—and the fact that the silence means _Thor has gone to work._

He grabs his phone. It’s 12:50 in the afternoon. And his throbbing headache feels like it’s splitting his skull in two.

He missed his calc exam. His French exam starts in ten minutes.

Getting to campus on public transit takes him at least thirty. He’s _fucked_.

So he screams.

He throws his pillow at the wall first. Then he wants something heavier, so he grabs his desk lamp and smashing it, laughing when its light bulb shatters. Next he throws his stapler and then his tape dispenser and a glass iced tea bottle. He doesn’t care.

He checks his phone to see that he has a text from Svadi making sure he’s okay. He throws his phone against the wall behind his bed. If Svadi cared he wouldn’t have called Thor. Immediately Loki makes sure his phone wasn’t damaged.

If Thor cared, he’d be here. Loki punches the wall until his knuckles bleed and streaks of red stain the white paint, then shoves his face in his mattress and lets out a sob.

He needs a cigarette, so he crawls across the room for his pack and lighter. Thor doesn’t like him smoking in here? _Who cares._ Being scolded by Thor is nothing compared to the shame of failing his classes.

After lighting his cigarette he fishes through his desk drawers for his drawing compass and drags it across his forearm. Anything that can distract from the chaos circling in his mind. Cutting into his flesh is one of the only things like makes him feel like a person.

Sometimes he looks at his long eyelashes in the mirror and blinks coyly, reminding himself that the image reflected is _Loki_ , and he _is_ Loki. Otherwise, Loki just seems like an idea, and he can't believe he exists.

Right now, he knows he is real. He doesn’t want to be real. If he slices his arm and sends his mind into white-hot pain, he can feel like he’s in another dimension, like he’s anywhere but here.

He always knew there was something broken in him, something that made him not a real Borson, but he couldn’t reach it under his skin.

When he was younger, his whole family found out about this particular habit of his. One night, when he couldn’t stop the bleeding, he got scared and called for Frigga. He’d needed eight stitches, and Odin demanded he begin seeing a psychiatrist soon after the hospital trip. He remembers himself at age fourteen, terrified he might be at his end. He’s not that scared anymore.

Death would mean no more school. No more asshole boyfriend to treat him like shit.

Cutting is only a temporary release, and Loki returns to his world of misery. He has the sense to bandage his cuts and stop the bleeding. On his way back to his bed, he steps on a piece of broken glass and cries out. The unexpected pain is unwelcome.

Loki cries a little, knowing he won’t finish his final Philosophy paper, because he is self-destructing, letting his whole life crash and burn. He’s tempting fate for the final push toward death.

 

* * *

 

When Thor returns from work, Loki refuses to come out of his room. He can’t let Thor see him in his disorientated state, and he certainly can’t let Thor see the wreck he made in his bedroom.

He failed two, so he’ll fail them all. That’s Loki’s style. It follows no logic, but he is testing the universe for a reaction. There doesn’t seem to be much point in doing anything else.

Thor finally peaks in his room later that night.

“Are you okay, Loki? Do I need to call mother?”

“Just tired from finals,” Loki mumbles back, burrowing himself into his blankets, pulling his bandaged arm underneath himself.

He lies because it is his instinct to do so, and now he has to keep up that lie. He will delay his family’s disappointment a little while longer until the truth comes out and they realize they don't want him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am sorry this chapter took so long and is so short, but my next update will be quicker as i already have most of it written. expect some mushy family feelings. i am especially excited to share my loki & odin scenes!
> 
> feel free to drop me a note with your thoughts. :)


	6. six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are about to get intense, so please do refer to my tags and content warnings if you want an idea of what to expect.

_never speak a word again_  
_I will crawl away for good_  
_I will move away from here_  
_you won't be afraid of fear_  
  
_no thought was put into this_  
_always knew it would come to this_  
_things have never been so swell_  
_I have never felt this well_

_I have never felt so frail_  
_I have never failed to feel_  
_I have never felt to feel  
I have never failed to fail  _

_—_ Nirvana, “I Know You’re Right”

 

Frigga wears a ladybug apron and wipes the granite countertops of the gourmet kitchen. Loki can smell her apple pie in the oven. “Oh, it’s so difficult with both of my boys out of the house,” she says as Thor and Loki step through the entryway. Thor is quick to reach out and embrace her.

Loki sulks. He’s not in the mood to put on a happy face, not when he has _failed his exams_ and probably failed at least half his courses. And being home means he gets fewer cigarette breaks. Admittedly, he is grumpy about it. 

“Loki, _my Loki_ —I’m so happy to have my baby home for the holidays,” Frigga says, fussing over Loki immediately. There is no escape from her coddling now. “You must be so glad to be finished with your schoolwork,” she says. “How did your exams go?”

“I don’t know,” snaps Loki. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“He did fine, he’s just worrying,” supplies Thor, who has begun raiding the pantry with Mjolnir at his heels.

“Shh, then we will not have to talk about it. Don’t fret so much, Loki. I’m sure you did just fine, and you know I love you no matter what.” _But will you, really?_ Loki’s mind supplies. Frigga cups Loki’s face in her hands and pushes away a strand of hair that has fallen in his face before pressing her hand to his forehead to check his temperature. “You look tired. Are you feeling quite all right?”

“I’m fine,” says Loki, flinching away. “Just tired. May I go—rest?”

 “Of course, dear. Thor, honey—save room for the pie,” Frigga adds, looking at Thor, who is standing by the pantry with his hand in a box of Cocoa Puffs. 

Loki scurries up the grand staircase, desperate to crash in his childhood bedroom. The penthouse is like a palace. Loki has stalked its halls as an insomniac ghost at all hours of the night and early morning, never quite comfortable in his supposed home.

For as long as he can remember, he has felt like he’s on the edge of something terrible. Within him, there is something dark, something different, something alien. That’s why occupying his very own human form feels _wrong_. _He_ _feels wrong_. And he is. Loki is not Odin’s and Frigga’s son at all. 

When Loki confronted her, Frigga insisted they hadn’t told him because they never wanted him to feel different. They didn’t realize he’d felt different anyone and not known why. Thor has two homes while Loki has zero.

Loki cocoons himself under the blankets in his own bed. He texts Svadilfari about how much it sucks to be home, even though he hates his boyfriend—his _soulmate_ , as Svadi used to say. Loki’s body aches from the stress of too many stimulants, and he’s crashing hard.

He wants to sleep for hours, days, maybe forever, but body will not relax.  He is absolutely on the edge of something terrible—it’s no longer just a vague feeling. 

Because Loki _failed_ —he did the very thing he always feared most, and he doesn’t even know why he did it.

He gets no reply from Svadi. A true soulmate would be there for him, but Loki knows he’s just a monster and no one pure-hearted could ever love him.

Loki texts Freya and Sigyn too. Sigyn doesn’t check her phone often, so Loki doesn’t have to take it personally when she doesn’t text back. Freya has to be ignoring him because she knows, ultimately, that he wants her help selling that oxy. He hates them all.

At first Loki thinks he may be dreaming the soft knock on his door. That knock belongs to Frigga, who says, “Loki, dear, would you like to taste my apple pie?”

“No, thank you,” Loki says, rolling his into his pillow. The thought of food is repulsive to him.

“Thor already has his face in it, so it will be gone soon. And I know you love apples.”

“ _Go away!_ ”

“If what you need is your space, then by all means, I will not disturb you,” she says, always so sweet even when he acts like an ungrateful brat. “One more thing,” she adds from the doorway, “your father wants to see you in his office later.”

 

* * *

 

Odin sits behind his desk in his oversized chair, an unreadable look on his worn face. His African Grey parrots, Huginn and Muninn, chirp from their intricate gold cages. Loki finds birds to be almost intolerable. The Borsons are all stupidly eccentric rich people. 

Before Odin, Loki has always felt small. So many times, he has been scolded and lectured in this very spot.

“My son,” Odin says.

“Father,” Loki says in a small voice.

“I know that things between us have been strained lately.”

“What am I here for?”

“I would like to talk to my son. Would you grant me that privilege, Loki?”

“I believe we are already talking,” Loki says with a smirk, growing bolder.

“How did you perform on your exams? Did they go well?” Odin says, ignoring the sarcastic remark. When Loki, horrified, does not have a response prepared, Odin saves him by continuing, “There’s no need for me to ask that, really. I have little doubt in your academic performance, so long as you do not get yourself expelled.”

A part of Loki wants to blurt, _I failed, Father. You were right all along—I couldn’t do it._ But he doesn’t have the heart. How convenient it is that he can even lie by saying nothing. He truly is an accomplished liar.

“Outside of school, how are you? How is living with your brother?”

“It’s—annoying,” says Loki. “Filthy. So loud. I can barely focus with him around.”

Odin laughs, shaking his head. “ _You two_. I had hoped you would be getting along, but I am hardly shocked. You like your quiet and solitude, but it is good for you to have your brother. Have you been—happy?” Odin says, suddenly.

“Of course,” says Loki. His heart rate quickens.

“Your mother and Thor have expressed various concerns. I worry about you fiercely.”

“Oh, _do you_?” Loki says, his mouth twisting into a cruel smile.

“Please do not be ridiculous, Loki. Of course I worry. This man you are seeing—your brother says he is quite a bit older than you are.”

“He isn’t that much older,” Loki says quickly. “He’s twenty-four.”

“Do not lie to me, Loki. I believe Thor. Your mother accepts your lies in order to avoid the truth. Now, how old is he truly?"

“Thirty-one.”

Odin says nothing. “It isn’t illegal,” Loki provides when he can no longer handle Odin’s intense stare. “I’m an _adult._ ”

“You may be eighteen, but you still rely on me to fix the problems you create. You wouldn’t still be in school if not for me.” 

“Don’t act like you were helping!” Loki snaps. “It would bring you too much shame if anyone found out I got kicked out of school, so of course you would not allow that to happen.”

Odin sighs before speaking again.  “Loki, I cannot imagine any reasonable explanation for why you would be selling drugs. Surely you can buy anything you want with the allowance I give you. I fear you are being manipulated by this man.”

“What do you even care? You just don’t want your hated second son causing any _scandals_ for you to clean up.”

“As though you two are not always causing trouble no matter what I do! How dare you suggest that I do not care about you! You are behaving as a child, Loki.”

Loki freezes. A sudden chill runs through his body, because he can hear Svadilfari using the same tone. He becomes aware of the power dynamic in the room—the way he is subordinate to this man who controls him.

“ _Loki!_ ” says Odin. Loki’s staring at the floor, abashed, because he is a child. He can see how immature his actions are, and he understands why they drive people away, but he cannot stop being a terrible person. “ _Son!_ Why can’t you look me in the eye?” Odin demands.

“ _You’re not my father!_ ” Loki snaps, surprised by his own outburst. “ _Are we done here yet?_ ”

“You will not speak to me with such disrespect!” Odin bellows. “Go up to your room, Loki! You’re _grounded!_ ”

Loki wants to protest “ _I’m an adult!”_ but he knows there is a threat in that declaration—Odin can kick him out and cut him off. Svadilfari has a whole apartment to himself, and maybe there could be space for Loki.

“Fine! Lock me up until I can be useful to you, like always!” Loki cries.

“Stop it, Loki! Get out of my sight!” Odin roars.

“That’s exactly what I want to do!” Loki shouts before slamming the door behind him. The chirps of the birds follow him down the hallway. 

He stretches out in his bed, defeated, and unconsciously, he opens his laptop to check his email. Svadilfari has not texted him, but he sent an email with no subject. He’s older, so he still likes communicating in little letters.

_Beautiful Loki, you know that I love you deeply. I am, however, unable to give you the love you require to fill your inner void of insecurity. I need to focus on my work and that does not give me the time to help you with every crisis. You are amazing and bright, and I will always wish you well. Perhaps you can take this opportunity to continue growing. We are still soulmates, and I am sure our paths will cross again. Forever yours, S._

There is no point in living—Loki is sure of this more and more.

Svadilfari has used Loki in the worst way. Odin used him in another way, by trying to mold him into a perfect son—but that plan failed because Thor has always been the only true son. Loki was never meant to be loved.

 

* * *

 

Loki spends an indeterminable time stewing in his self-loathing. When Odin pounds on his door, he shouts at him to go away. Frigga tries to coax him into family meals despite his constant refusals. 

“Not hungry,” he says automatically.

“You always say you are never hungry. Loki—” 

“ _Please, Mama, just leave me alone_.”

“Are you ill? Do you need to go a doctor? If something is wrong, that’s more important to me than all this party planning—I will make time for you.”

Loki panics briefly— _no going to the doctor!_ He needs to start acting more like he’s okay because he can’t let anyone in his family know that he was dumped—can’t give them the satisfaction of saying “ _I told you so._ ”

“I’m fine,” says Loki. “I’m reading.” In reality, he is lying in bed, checking all his social media accounts on his phone, but reading is his default excuse. Frigga easily believes he is absorbed in a book, though while he loves to read, lately his mind in too frazzled to make sense of the words.

Eventually, Frigga reminds him that she’s there for him and leaves, shutting the door behind herself.

 

* * *

 

Loki is good at being grounded because he doesn’t want to leave his bed. He sends Svadilfari an email saying _How could you leave me?_ When he calls, he gets the answering machine every time. 

 _Ur being a dick,_ Thor texts to Loki. _Just talk to Mom and Dad._

Even his own brother is not on his side. Sif visits the penthouse constantly, and Loki is sure she and Thor are _fucking_ day and night. It’s amazing Thor took the time to write a text message at all.

Of course Loki is alone. The same obsessive thoughts repeat in his head. _No one cares, no one cares, NO ONE CARES._  

 

* * *

 

Frigga comes into Loki’s room without his consent to inform him Odin has spent days in bed. “Your father experiences stress as a physical illness. You’re a lot like him, you know. Both of you are so prone to your moods,” she says. 

“He must be proud of me, then,” Loki says bitterly.

“Stop it, honey.”

“Mama, what were my real parents like? Are they the reason I’m so screwed up?” he asks suddenly.

“You’re not screwed up, Loki. And—we don’t know anything about your birth parents. You were abandoned.”

“So my parents didn’t even want me?”

“Loki, we want you. I don’t know what their circumstances were. The mother probably didn’t have the resources to raise you. She was probably scared.”

“Well it’s a good thing I get to be _rich_.” He smiles because Frigga doesn’t like when he says that.

“I know we were not open about the adoption, and we should have been.”

“It doesn’t matter, not anymore,” Loki says.

Even Frigga won’t care about him like this when she knows he’s a failure—that no matter how hard she tried, nothing could be done to help him. He doesn’t have the golden Borson genes; he is an impostor and a stranger among his own family.

 

* * *

 

Frigga reserves a very false voice when she’s being a socialite. Loki can hear her using it with the caterers and he wants to scream. His parents keep saying they are so worried about him, but they’re having their party anyway, and he’s expected to stay in his room.

 _If I'm behaving like such a child, maybe I should just be what everyone thinks I am_ ,Loki decides. He can overhear the voices of people arriving at the penthouse, and he is absently playing Candy Crush Saga, waiting. These insipid Facebook games fill his neat for distraction and stimulation when he can’t have a cigarette.

Loki doesn’t know why he’s been obsessed with self-destruction as long as he can remember. It’s just the way he is, and he knows what he’s doing. He’ll either die or wake up in a hospital, and everyone will dote on him, and he’ll get or the attention he has been craving—which is a terrible thought, certainly, but he fantasizes about it all the time.

Hidden under his bed is a bottle of rum, left over from his high school days.  Thor bought it for him, of course. _So responsible, good old T_ _hor_. He reaches through all his papers to check out his drug situation. He’s nearly out of Adderall, but he still has an excess of oxy.

Winter vacation means that he gets a break from having to deal with the constant text messages for drugs, a break from being dragged to college parties he hates. The texts will start again in a month’s time, and Loki will have to tell them all he lost his source. Svadi probably doesn’t want money for the oxy as much as he wants Loki out of his life. He’s sick of being Svadi’s bitch anyway.

He takes a couple oxy pills out of the baggie and washes them down with a swig of vodka, cringing at its bitterness. He takes another shot and decides he’ll snort the last of his Adderall. Maybe he’ll still ask Freya if she can sell some of the oxy once break is over so he can get a little extra money for more stimulants. Thor was prescribed Ritalin once when he was younger and said he hated him feel—numb, detached, robotic. Loki feels that way much of the time than he is sober, and stimulants give him an incredible rush when he needs that extra boost. 

Tiptoeing though no one would notice him with the party underway, Loki sneaks into his parents’ suite. Frigga allows him to take things from her closet whenever he wants. He searches for one of her fur coats. Though she insists she is against fur, Odin continues to buy them for her as presents. She says she cannot resist the warmth they offer—that admittedly, she the real fur is beautiful—and if they’ve already been paid for, it would be a waste not to wear them.

Loki chooses her mink, which has always been his favorite of the collection.

He steals a look at himself in the mirrored walls and winks at his likeness. He’s so hot— _gorgeous_ , and also rather warm in the heavy coat. His cheeks are flushed, but maybe that’s a good look—he’s often so pale. It’s like he’s wearing blush.

He searches a few drawers for her Valium and maybe her personal stash of weed, but apparently she has hidden them well this time.

Slowly, Loki descends the spiral staircase, feeling like he’s gliding. He has always loved this grand staircase and the intricate filigree decorating its gold banisters. It’s like he’s making an entrance, except that no one is paying him any mind; he sees them, shuffling around below, the sounds of _sophisticated party conversation_ wafting up the foyer.

He’s gone down these staircase so many times before—every day of his life, just coming down for breakfast, or chasing Thor, or being chased by Thor, or prancing around like a model when he was home alone.

Loki sees his parents chatting with Freya’s mother and some other asshole socialites, who move on to mingle elsewhere, leaving Odin and Frigga to have a moment with one another, holding their glasses of red wine.

 “Father,” says Loki, smiling. His beloved parents do not seem to notice him approaching. “Mother. So very lovely to see you.”

Loki knows Odin will not publicly chastise him, that to not greet his own son warmly would be an _embarrassment_. His parents will act phony, like usual.

“Loki, my son. I see you have joined us,” says Odin in a tone that could pass for jovial, but Loki sees the warning in his eyes.

“And you are wearing my mink,” Frigga adds, stroking the fur, clearly determined to keep Loki calm. “It does look lovely on you.”

Loki pulls away from his mother and says, “Yes, I have joined you, even if I am not wanted, or, in fact, your son.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” says Odin.

“Loki, _please_ —“ urges Frigga.

“So, this is a fancy party—may I have a drink?” says Loki, smiling.

“I believe you’ve had enough drinks already,” says Frigga, maintaining her equally inappropriate smile. She hands him a water bottle. “Have some water. I believe the place for you is in bed.”

“Oh, so you refuse to entertain me?” Loki says, rejecting the bottle. The thought of consuming anything disgusts him. “Your second son, adopted son—least loved?”

“Do not make a scene,” Odin says. “If you go back up to your room, nothing will look odd, and I will be a very happy man.”

“It would look bad,” Loki says, softly, “if you are seen fighting with me. So you’ll be polite to me.”

“This is your chance to leave,” Odin says softly.

“So it is all about keeping appearances?” says Loki, more loudly.

“We are not doing this here,” says Frigga. “Go up to bed, and we will talk later.”

“ _Are we not?_ ” Loki snaps. Heads begin to turn.

“Loki, do not escalate this,” Odin growls, beginning to lose his cool. So Loki has succeeded in pushing him to the edge.

“All of this is a sham,” Loki continues, voice raising, “Odin and Frigga wish to project that they have a perfect family, with two perfect sons! And yet you lock me away in a closet out of _shame_! You’re so afraid of a _scandal_! I’m just a nuisance to you, aren’t I? You’re all phonies and liars—couldn’t even tell me to my face that I’m not really your son—too busy praising Thor to even give me the time of day—”

“Loki, you are drunk,” Frigga says sharply.

Loki takes a deep breath. “You never listen to me,” he cries. “You always have some excuse—“

“ _Enough_!” hisses Odin. Frigga clutches his arm.“Thor,” he says suddenly. Loki looks up to see Sif and Thor arriving at the party, both with their blonde hair a bit rumpled. Thor whispers something in Sif’s ear before breaking away from her and rounding on Loki.

“Loki, come on,” Thor says with a false smile.  

“Let’s go, Loki,” Sif adds, softly. She and Thor are surrounding Loki. _Like she gives a shit_ , he thinks. _Like she even knows what she signed up for, dating a son of this fucked up family. She must want to back out now._

“We’re going to get you to bed. _Nothing to see here_ ,” he adds, mindful of the stairs. “I’m taking care of my little brother.”

“You are so self righteous,” Loki says, shoving the disgusting couple out of his face. They still smell of _sex_. “The _golden son_ of Frigga and Odin! Parading around with your filthy _one-night stand_!”

“What is _wrong_ with you?” Thor shouts. “You apologize to Sif this instant!”

“Take him upstairs,” Odin instructs, gesturing to Loki, as Frigga croons, “ _Loki, please, don’t make this worse…”_

Thor envelops Loki in his arms and tries to guide him away from the scene. Sif is whispering with Frigga, seemingly unaffected by his attack on her honor. Loki fights to get out of Thor's grip but loses balance, lightheaded and dizzy.

Just like Svadilfari, Loki’s own parents are sending him to Thor when they don’t want to deal with him.

Something dawns on Loki—maybe Thor has always, in some way, been there. He may have abandoned Loki at a couple house parties, but he was eighteen. Loki is eighteen himself now, and he would certainly be the worst older brother ever.

Thor is willing to pick up Loki’s pieces. Loki is aware of what he has, appreciative, even.

He clings to his big brother as they walk back up the grand staircase solemnly, and he almost feels safe.

“I never took my exams,” Loki whispers. “Or did my papers.”

Thor stops. “ _Shut up_ —what the hell are you talking about? You told me you went—you were working on that paper—all week.”

“Well, I didn’t! I am in _such deep shit_ , Thor.”

“Is that an excuse for—for _this_?” Thor says, shoving Loki into his bedroom. “You’re the worst! You’re selfish and cruel!”

“You have always been cruel!” Loki cries. “Leaving me behind while you were with your friends— _you forgot about me! You left me_!”

“Get into your bed,” Thor commands. “We’ll deal with everything in the morning.”

“You’re the favorite,” Loki says, weakly. “You always have been.”

“ _Shut up_ , Loki.”

Thor is done with Loki. In time, everyone will be done with Loki. He wonders if Thor will go down and further ruin the party by telling Odin about Loki’s failures, or if he’ll wait until later.

He lies in his bed, head swimming and body feeling heavy. He listens and realizes he doesn’t hear Thor’s footsteps pounding back downstairs.

There’s _laughing_ coming from Thor’s childhood bedroom. Thor and Sif are laughing.

Loki has to stew here and suffer and await his father’s disownment, but Thor can go back to having a jolly time because he doesn’t give a shit about Loki. No one does.

His vision is fuzzy, and his head is full of fog. He needs to get out of here, to escape. He grabs his oxy before climbs the stairs to the roof, just for some fresh air and a cigarette. No way is he going to bed. 

Soon, he is slipping out the back way of his apartment building, and then he is on the street in what he realizes is pouring rain. Restless, he wanders, frantically texting Svadilfari— _I love you_ — _I don’t think I can go on without you_.

The rain sparkles on the road as he runs toward the multilane highways crossing over the city.

As a child, Loki was scared of storms, and he would annoy Frigga and Odin in their room when he couldn’t sleep. They would tell him nothing could harm him, and Frigga would tuck him into bed and read to him. Sometimes Odin would even tell him a story about the Norse Gods whose names were a family tradition. But by the time Loki was eight or so, they tired of him and thought he needed to learn to face the night on his own. 

Thor, at the time, was an angry fourteen-year-old. Loki would climb into his bed anyway, shuddering under Thor’s covers when branches cracked outdoors. And Thor would yell; he’d tell Loki to get out, but then he’d hug Loki and repeat things like _it’s gonna be okay_. The mantra reassured Loki; now he realizes Thor was reassuring himself as well. Thor was always in some sort of fight with their parents; the Borson home was never without its drama.

At nine years old, Loki’s overall dread had not fully set in, and Thor whispering in his ear could still calm him.

The streetlights twinkle as Loki races past them. He ends up on the freeway, heading toward the bridge where he can overlook the water, propelled by an unnatural energy. The rain doesn’t matter—not in the scheme of things—not when there are matters of _life and death_.

Thunder crashes and booms, and Loki shivers—he registers, suddenly, that it is winter, the temperature is barely above freezing, and he is not wearing a coat. He does not mind that so much.

Cars speed past him on the highway, none of the drivers noticing how close he is to something major. They don’t know who he is or what he can do. And staring into the water below the bridge, he is scared.

As a last resort, he dials Thor’s number—does his own brother care about to answer while he’s fucking his _one-night stand_? Without even caring that Loki is in _crisis_.

Thor answers.

“Give me one reason,” he says wildly.

“ _What?_ Where are you, Loki?”

“Just tell me one reason not to do it.”

“ _Loki!_ This is madness! Where the hell are you?”

“Where the hell are _you_? Putting your dick in Sif? It must be so wonderful to just fuck someone and forget about your _crazy little brother_!”

Loki is startled by a sudden flash of light in the sky. He cannot crawl to his big brother’s room; there is _no one_ in the world to comfort him.

Staring into the water below, he can feel its vastness and his own insignificance. He always imagined that before jumping off a building, his hair would blow in the moonlight. It is dripping with rainwater, and he is sure he looks like a drowned rat.

“ _Loki_?” Thor’s voice is shouting on the phone, but Loki stares at the water below, shocked.

Loki doesn’t even belong in this privileged family; in that respect, he considers himself lucky. His mind goes back to the water.

 _How far is it down? A hundred feet, perhaps?_ His hands grip the railing. At any moment, he could end it.

_Could I, really?_

What happens next is surreal; a car is pulling up and a man and shouting and it’s his father—he car pulling up is _Odin’s_.

His hand, holding his phone, trembles. Of course—under Odin’s phone contract, he is never truly free.

“Loki, what the hell are you doing?” Odin shouts. Loki quickly registers that Thor is in the passenger’s seat.

“What the hell are _you_ doing?” Loki says as Odin climbs out of the car and rounds on him. “Don’t you have guests to entertain? They’ll _miss_ you, won’t the—”

Loki stops speaking, because it occurs to him— _Frigga didn’t come_. She’s too busy keeping face, being a good party host, and that’s what hurts the most. His own mother isn’t here for him.

“Get away from the edge,” Odin says. He sounds weary. _Good._ Loki is weary too.

“ _Just come home, Loki!”_ Thor adds. “ _We’ll forget this all happened!_ ”

“You’d love to forget—to cast me aside,” Loki laughs, the way he knows is disturbing to others, “—to not have to worry about what your little fuckup does—“

“Do not twist my words, Loki. Get into the car this _instant!_ ” Odin commands, charging forward as though to grab Loki.

“ _STAND BACK_!” Loki wails, his voice scratchy, strained by tonight’s many cries of desperation.

He wants to get away. He climbs over the railing as Odin is shouting,

“Loki, _no!”_ and Loki’s mind taunts him— _What does falling really feel like? Wouldn’t you like to know?_ He allows his foot to slip.

Odin lunges after Loki. A split second later, as he is hanging on his last thread of _life_ —he wishes it were humanly possible to reach his father’s outstretched arm.

He is accelerating, falling into the blackness in slow motion, forever, and simultaneously, no time passes. He sees himself falling from the outside, and he knows he deserves the void below, but he has made a huge mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo that was a monster of a chapter, and it is a relief to post it at last. 
> 
> i know it hurts, but hang in there and trust me that i'm going to make things better--this is not meant to be a story without hope. i like dark themes, but i am a very squishy person. i derive no pleasure from hurt without comfort. i live for asgardian family cuddles in my asgardian family drama.
> 
> we are pretty close to the end at this point; currently i am planning for one more chapter. thank you to [majikthise](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Majikthise/pseuds/Majikthise) for being amazing and helpful and reading this over for me.


	7. seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and now we are at the end.

_When you gonna make up your mind?_  
_When you gonna love you as much as I do?_  
_When you gonna make up your mind?_  
_'Cause things are gonna change so fast_  
_All the white horses are still in bed_  
_I tell you that I'll always want you near,  
_ _You say that things change, my dear..._

 _—_ Tori Amos, “Winter”

_Hitting water is not gentle._ The river did not guide Loki softly. The feeling was much more like hitting concrete, and after that, he cannot reach any memories. In the void, as icy water filled his lungs, he lost all consciousness. He is awake now, and _he is in Hell_.

At first he has a vague sense of his anger, but the drugs subdue the rage, dulling it to a squishy world of pillows. 

Frigga is the one to shush him when he says something disturbing, hovering over him every moment he is awake and every moment he is between the opiate haze of dream and reality. She tells him not to try to move, not to speak.

“I’m sorry, Mama. I love you,” he says anyway without knowing why; his brain knows no boundaries and the primal thoughts come sliding out.

“Shh, _shh_ ,” she says, like a songbird whispering in his ear.

His left arm is broken, and his ribs and stomach are bruised. He knows there is extensive internal bleeding; _he did that to himself_.  The bruises are blue and purple, like thunder clouds. He wonders if lightning feels softer than concrete.

He dreams of angels; he is flying in the sky with them, but he keeps falling down, crashing, and then the angels pull him up again as he shivers.

Sometimes Frigga’s voice pulls him back into the sky, and she is one of the angels. 

His fragmented coherence allows him to forget the void. His faulty memory questions whether he remembers shaking with hypothermia as something fishes him from the water.

When Loki next wakes up, his greasy hair, which itches against the pillows, is being stroked by a foreign hand—his father’s. The gesture seems bizarre, foreign; he cannot recall his father holding him since he was a child, and hair petting seems to communicate the fondness one might have for a pet. Loki does not understand why it comforts him.

“You’re my treasure, Loki,” Odin says. “I would not be able to bear if I lost you. From the moment I saw you, Loki, I knew you were mine. Somewhere, I must have gone wrong.”

All Loki can say is, “I’m sorry.” Every time he hears his father speak his name, he wants to cry.

“I only want to help you, my son. I wish you would have understood that.”

Loki fades back into the dream world. Later, when he senses his brother’s presence in the room, he feels unsure; only half of his mind is in reality.

There is no reason for Thor to visit. Loki has been a terrible brother, and he knows it. And yet he can feel Thor’s hand holding his. 

“Loki? You awake?” his brother says as Loki’s eyes crack open. “How are you doing today?”

Loki doesn’t want to dignify that with an answer. Can Thor not _see_ how he is _doing_?

Thor continues to babble anyway. “I, uh, I haven’t been into work—” _Loki’s fault_ — _that is_ implied, “—and Sif has been taking really good care of me.”

Small talk is the only way Thor can communicate with Loki. Even when Loki has known Thor most of his life, but he feels like they’re light years apart. _It’s funny how throwing yourself from a bridge will alienate you like that_ , Loki thinks, bitterly. He has yet to say one word to Thor. He knows he shouldn’t shake with rage every time Thor mentions Sif’s name. The response is irrational, but he can’t help resenting Sif’s sudden presence in his brother’s life.

“You don’t hate me, do you?” Loki says suddenly.

“ _No…_ Brother, why would you think that?”

“Because I’m _not_ your brother! Did you _know_ I was adopted? Why did you never tell me?” Loki demands.

“I pieced it together,” says Thor, “when I was older. I’d never seen Mother pregnant. But it never mattered, Loki.”

“How does it not matter to you? It feels like everything to me. It’s the reason I’m not good enough—the reason I can’t make Father proud like you—”

”Loki, stop,” says Thor. “We have time to work this out. Just like Father and I did years ago.”

“I failed at school,” Loki says, not listening. “I’m a loser now.”

“You’ll go back to college when you’re better, Loki. Don’t fixate on it.”

“My life is _over_. How can I not fixate on it?” he says before considering that it’s inappropriate. His life isn’t over. But this is a fate worse than death—living and being the family fuck-up. “Who knows how long until they let me go back? Do I have to be in _treatment_ for a whole year? Everyone will know I couldn’t graduate with my original class year. Maybe I could take some summer classes—”

“Stop worrying. You’re only eighteen, Loki. You have so much time.”

“I want to go home. I don’t even know where home is, but I want to be back, in my own bed—I miss the cats—I even miss the stupid birds!” 

“You’ll get to go home before you leave for treatment,” says Thor, “once they release you from here. “I’m sorry I couldn’t see how much you were hurting. I want to be in your life, Loki, so I can be there for you.” When Loki doesn’t respond, Thor adds, “Why don’t you get some rest? If you need to be alone, I understand.” 

“No— _I’m_ sorry,” Loki says.

 _Don’t go,_ he wants to add, but he lets Thor leave.

 

* * *

 

Lying in the hospital, Loki only has himself and his thoughts. For hours at a time, when he cannot sleep, he learns to accept being solitary. He cannot cling to Svadilfari. He feels ashamed when he clings to his brother, mother, and father. 

Loki has always been selfish, as Svadilfari was often quick to remind him. He has always been stuck inside his head too much and has failed to notice other people around him. He never meant to be that way, but it happened. Svadi couldn’t have helped him.

 

* * *

 

“We’re making sure you have the best possible care,” Odin is saying, as he and Frigga loom over Loki’s bed. “I don’t want anyone inexperienced treating my son.”

“We're going to find the perfect place for you,” says Frigga. “I want you to be somewhere nice to heal, somewhere you will be comfortable.”

Loki says nothing, unsure how much to rejoice that the _prison_ where they’re shipping him will be expensive and fancy, just like Svadilfari said. His parents such _snobs_ , probably hoping this stays out of the press and doesn’t ruin their image—as always.

“The one we’re looking at right now is called Vanaheim,” Frigga continues. “It’s like a resort. You’ll like it, I hope. They specialize in eating disorders.”

“I don’t need to go to that,” says Loki, and his voice is weak and full of desperation. “I don’t…” 

“You do, Loki,” Odin reprimands. “You need to admit it to yourself.” 

“You’ve always been so skinny,” Frigga muses. “I can’t understand why you would think you need to diet. But I know it’s a disease. You’ve always been prone to obsession.” 

“There wasn’t a reason, not really,” says Loki meekly. “I mean, there was, but…” he trails off. He wanted to be perfect—all sharp edges, and most of all, he wanted to die. Maybe he still wants to be exceptional and dead, but he feels guilty thinking about that while Mother and Father are looking right at him.

Loki doesn’t want to continue talking about this—not in front of Father; something about him hearing about why he starved himself is too embarrassing. Maybe one day he can confide about it in Frigga. 

When Frigga tries to feed him applesauce, Loki panics, but she speaks to him soothingly, reminding him to breathe, and then she coaxes him into having a few spoonfuls because he doesn’t have the heart to say no.

Odin remains strangely silent as Frigga whispers reassuring words into Loki’s hair.  Loki wishes he could know what his father is thinking— _if he’s disappointed, or unsurprised._

“Well, Loki,” Odin finally says. “Just try to get some sleep…We’ll talk again when we decide on your treatment.”

“I think you might like it at Vanaheim. It may be the one,” Frigga says. “Think of it as a vacation.”

 

* * *

 

Loki ends up in a private room at Vanaheim because Frigga insists he needs his space. He doesn’t really have any privacy, of course. 

He cannot do the things he normally does, like digging blades into his veins. They give him some Trazedone to help him sleep, and it has absolutely no recreational value, so he is forced to live in the horrifying sober world of reality.

After his first few days in treatment, Loki uses the phone to call Svadilfari. His ex-soulmate speaks to him with clear pity and makes him feel like a small child.

Loki ends up crying and calling his mother to hear her comforting words. He refuses to say why he is so upset.

 

* * *

 

Loki refuses to eat at meals, but the nurses make him drink a thick shake under scrutiny. He tries to eat his safe foods, applesauce and salad, which he picks at with disdain. He wants to deny himself of them because he deserves to suffer.

Sometimes the idyllic setting of the rehabilitation resort is peaceful, and it _is_ somewhat like a vacation.  Loki is encouraged to sit and write about his feelings like he’s a kindergartener. If he wanted, he could attend a yoga class, but he doesn’t want other people looking at his body. He doesn’t have his phone, so he tries to read. 

As his psychologist has taught him, he practices replacing his obsessive thoughts about his looks and thinking about the things that interest him instead. Following this method, he is reading more than ever, desperate to keep his mind stimulated so it can’t focus on the dysphoric thoughts about his body and how disgusting he is.

When he can’t focus on reading, he does the fucking puzzles in the common room, angry at how dull his life has become in recovery. He’s supposed to be working on his control issues.

His psychologist thinks Loki has an issue with control. That’s why he needs to control his food intake, to deny himself. To disappear, ultimately. 

At times he cannot control his own dramatic outbursts and tantrums, and yet he manages to deny himself basic sustenance and take pride in how much he could harm his body. His mind allows him to believe paradoxes, to accept two contrasting thoughts at once. He’s just not in tune with himself, and his obsession with his appearance—his obsession with control—is an attempt to ease his persistent emptiness and self-hatred.

 

* * *

 

There is a meditation garden at Vanaheim that glistens in the sun. It reminds Loki of his mother—when he was very young, before they moved to the city, she kept a garden. Loki sits in the meditation garden for hours and imagines he is four years old again.

He talks to his mother on the phone every day, and she visits as often as she is allowed, bringing him books and gifts. 

“Mother truly indulges you,” comments Thor, glancing at the stack of books by his bedside. He took off from work so he could see Loki.  
  
“Oh, as if we’re not both spoiled brats,” says Loki.

“You haven’t made friends with any of the other _clients_ here, have you?”

“No, of course not,” Loki admits. His group leader encourages him to speak but he remains closed off. He is not ready to speak. He does not even know what he would say—the thoughts about his fall, about his relationship with Svadilfari, his refusal to eat—they are all still so jumbled up in his fractured head.

“That’s my antisocial little brother,” says Thor. “Then again, I guess the people here aren’t the people you need in your life.”

“ _I’m_ one of the people here,” Loki snaps.

“So what do you do each day here?”

“I’m learning to not do bad shit, I guess. That’s all. It’s boring mostly.”

“I’m _glad_ you’re here,” says Thor.

“ _You would be_ ,” hisses Loki. “You would be glad I’m locked up and out of your sight while you marry Sif and live your perfect life.” He watches the laughter disappear from his brother’s eyes.

“Where would you get that idea?” Thor says. “I don’t think you’re recovering at all.”

“Why, because I’m not smiling and telling you all the platitudes you want to hear? Why should I bother?”

“I don’t know, Loki. You’re such a little shit sometimes, you know?” A moment passes, and Thor chuckles. At least Loki still has his charm.

 

* * *

 

As weeks pass by, Loki learns to eat his meals properly. He’s being good. By now, he knows how Vanaheim works. He feels like he owns this place.

In time, his wit has won him over with his doctors and nurses.  He is learning to smile at the right times.

Loki supposes he’s lucky that he gets regular visits from his family; not everyone here has that. Some of the other clients know who he is, and they seem resentful of him because of it. Odin cannot visit as often as Frigga, but he claims he tries his best. 

“I just want to show you my _art project_ ,” Loki whines. 

Today, both of his parents are visiting, and they’re asking him endless questions—boring questions, like how he’s doing on his new medications, if he’s been eating well. He just wants them to see the pottery he made in art therapy.

Loki carefully hands his mother a black and red bowl with a snake coiled around it.

He finds pottery to be relaxing—truly therapeutic, just as promised. He loves the idea of crafting something with his hands.

“It’s so dark,” says Frigga. “It’s very beautiful.”

“Why a snake?” says Odin when Frigga passes him the bowl. He looks at it, and then he looks straight at Loki.

“I just felt drawn to it.” Loki looks down.

“You look healthy, my son,” Odin says, and Loki flinches.He’s seen himself in the mirror—his face is fuller. Maybe his hair is a bit less dull.

“They, erm, said I might almost be ready to go,” he says uncertainly.

“You’ll be graduating from the program soon?” Frigga exclaims.

“Maybe. I guess,” Loki mutters, looking down. They just need to believe he is better now, but he cannot look them in the eyes.

“That is good news, son,” Odin says. “Your mother and I are so proud of you.  By the way, I can talk to your college about giving you a retroactive medical withdrawal for the semester. I’m sure I can work it out with the dean. That would really help your GPA.”

“That would be great, Father,” Loki mumbles.

“Loki, you have not contacted that man, have you?” Odin says after a moment.

“I—“ Loki’s impulse is to lie, but he has not communicated with Svadilfari—not yet. When Sigyn answers Loki’s phone calls from treatment, she assures him that she is his friend, and she’s there for him. She says he’ll be able to go on without Svadi—the relationship was _unhealthy_ —it’s good that he’s getting better— _all that bullshit_. But he _will_ contact Svadi when he’s out of here. “No, we’re not speaking,” he says.

Frigga breathes a sigh of relief. “Oh, I’m so glad, honey. It would be best for you not to have relationships for a while.”

“I wish I could destroy that man for hurting you,” Odin says.

“It’s fine,” says Loki. “It was my fault.”

Frigga gasps, but Odin says calmly, “It was not your fault. Every relationship has its power dynamics. You can imagine I have a great deal of power in the company—as Thor is learning to follow.”

A mocking laugh escapes Loki at the thought of his brother running the company.

“Silence, Loki. Let me finish. Being in control is a great burden. Some people, given power by their positions, choose to extort those of lesser age or status. I fear that is what this _man_ did to you, but I hope that my own power only serves to protect you.”

Loki’s brain is too exhausted to make sense of the implications of his father’s words.

“You don’t need to trouble yourself about this now, Loki,” Frigga says after a moment. “You are making such wonderful progress in your recovery.”

Loki isn’t so sure of this. All this time to think about his fucked up life has made it all worse. Before, he buried most of it somewhere deep and dark. He smiles falsely to reassure his mother. She doesn’t deserve his bullshit.

“Do you remember when you were small and I would read myths to you?” Odin says suddenly. 

“Of course, Papa,” says Loki, feeling very small.

“Like the God of Mischief you were named after, I truly believe you are clever enough to overcome great challenges,” Odin says. “You are also strong enough, even if you do not believe it.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Loki admits.

When Odin doesn’t speak for another moment, Loki fills the space with a disorganized apology, “I—I’m sorry. I wanted to make you proud. I just wanted to be Thor’s equal. Or better maybe. But I’m nothing.”

“Oh, Loki,” says Frigga. “It hurts me to see you talk about yourself this way.”

Odin clasps his hand firmly on Loki’s neck. Whether Odin means it or not, Loki knows this is gesture of love from his father. “You do not need to try to be anyone else. You are not your brother. You are your own person. You are my son, Loki, and you deserve to be treated like gold.”

“ _I’m your Loki_?” Loki manages to squeak.

“You’re our Loki,” Frigga says, her eyes glinting, and Loki thinks he might cry.

“Why do you indulge his need for attention?” Odin says, but his lips tilt fondly.“Don’t you know better by now?”

“I’ll never learn,” says Frigga as Odin shakes his head.

“We’ll go get Thor for you,” Odin says after they all hug.

"Oh, Loki,” says Frigga, smoothing Loki’s hair. “You may trouble my heart, but your brother certainly gave me nightmares."

Loki smiles slightly. “He certainly is a handful.”

 

* * *

 

 _“I’m tired of your moping,” Thor says. “When I was fifteen, I was having fun. Not sitting in a musty room all alone.”_

_“Go away,” Loki snaps. Thor is nineteen years old, and their parents have put him in charge. Loki’s not allowed to spend a night alone, not since he hurt himself. So while Odin and Frigga are in Italy, Loki has to go down the shore and stay in the beach house with Thor._

_The beach house has an inherent mustiness mixed with the smell of salt in the air. It is a lonely place, and it is old._

_Loki likes the way it’s so quiet at the beginning of the summer, when he can sit in his room and write. But Loki suspects the loneliness of the beach house is the reason Thor tries to have friends over as often as possible._

_Their parents don’t seem to mind Thor turning the house into his personal party zone, or at least, they do nothing to stop him. Thor must only be pestering Loki because no one else is available to hang out with him._

_“Come on, have a beer with me,” Thor says. “We’ll do the normal things that brothers are supposed to do.”_

_“I guess if you get me drunk,” says Loki._

_Before Loki knows it they are sitting on the beach with their Coronas, and things are like they were before, when they were younger and Loki didn’t feel so sad all the time. Loki digs his toes into cool sand, and he laughs so hard he nearly chokes on his beer._

_And then the laughter stops, suddenly. What’s wrong?” says Loki, beer dripping down his chin._

_“I’m already on academic probation,” Thor says. “And I skipped Microeconomics every single day, so I know I failed it. And you’re getting straight As, aren’t you?”_

_“Whatever….it doesn’t matter.” Loki tries to be perfect, but it’ll never be good enough. Loki gets straight As because Odin expects no less._

_“Dude, I’d kill for good grades. Father is_ furious _with me. Maybe my grades would be better if I weren’t doing this boring business school bullshit! I can’t focus on it at all!”_

_“Well, you’re the future of the company,” says Loki._

_“Oh, shut the fuck up.” Clumsily, Thor tries to light a cigarette, muttering, “I’m so drunk and talking about this is still stressing me out. I’m so pissed off!”Loki helps his idiot brother shield the flame from the wind._

_Much to the dismay of their parents, Thor smokes cigarettes on the balcony of the beach house, and the smell seeps inside. At least Loki can always sneak a cigarette and blame it on his delinquent brother._

_“Can I have one too?” says Loki as Thor blows smoke in his face._

_“I can’t do that,” Thor says on an inhale. “I’m supposed to be responsible for you, and these things are deadly.”_

_“So is alcohol,” says Loki, “and you already gave me that._ Come on. _”_

_“Ugh, all right,” says Thor. “I guess you can have one.”_

_Loki watches the waves and focuses on their motion. He wants to drown, just like Thor is drowning himself in three times the amount of beer Loki can handle. As seems usual in their family, an awkward silence consumes the two of them. Loki breathes in the salt air and wonders how the sea would taste if the tide dragged him underwater._

_“You’re the only one that understands me, Loki,” Thor says, pulling Loki out of his morbid daydreams._  
  
“Shut up. You’re being stupid,” Loki says, because he doesn’t know how to deal with his brother in his overly sentimental phase of drunkenness.

 _“No, I mean it. I love you, little brother,” Thor slurs._

_“You’re just drunk, you idiot.”_

_“I’m not that drunk. I have a high tolerance. You’re the lightweight.”_

_“I’m not! I’m still in control of myself!” Loki says, and he stands up as if to prove it. He’s dizzy, he feels like the ground is moving out from underneath his feet, and he stumbles._

_And before Loki knows it, Thor is scooping him up into his big arms saying, “I told you. You are so fucked up. Let’s get you to bed, little brother.”_

_“You’re gonna drop me,” whines Loki._

_“No, I’m not. You’re so light!”_

_Thor brings Loki inside and the old wood floors creak, as he climbs up the stairs, mumbling, “I’m such a bag big brother. I was supposed to take care of you, and I—hey,” he says at the top of the staircase, “Can we go to your room?”_

_“What?” Loki says into his brother’s flannel shirt. “I_ want _to go to my room! I never wanted to go to your smelly room!”_

_“Me neither,” says Thor._

_Thor throws Loki on the bed and then lies down next to him. They look at each other and smile. The bed feels extraordinarily comfortable. Loki sinks into his pillow._

_“Do you think I’m irresponsible?” Thor asks._

_“What? Of course I do.”_

_“Really?” Thor says. He sounds so defeated that Loki almost feels sorry for him._

_“Oh, come on,” Loki says. “I still love you. I like that you’re irresponsible and share your illicit substances with me.”_

_“I’m the worst!” wails Thor. “But I can’t stop myself. I never want to get fucked up alone…”_

_“Why don’t you want to go to your room?” says Loki suddenly._

_“Don’t laugh at me, Loki.”_

_“_ I would never. _”_

_“Shut up. I mean it.”_

_“Tell me!” wails Loki, hitting his brother on the shoulder until Thor says, “_ Okay, okay _. I think there’s something in my room at night.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“Like a ghost,” Thor says in nearly a whisper._

_Loki doesn’t believe in ghosts. The thought of an afterlife is nice, but he cannot bring himself to accept anything beyond the natural world. “What makes you say that?”_

_“I hear things all the time. Something hitting against my door.”_  
  
“And? So what?”

_“It has to be a ghost.”_

_“I don’t think so,” says Loki. “You’re just imagining it. There are probably normal explanations for the noises you hear. Maybe it’s the wind.”_

_“No, this isn’t like that. It’s something otherworldly.”_

_Loki moans. “The room is spinning. I am really fucked up.”_

_“Are you okay?” says Thor._

_He reaches to hug Loki, enveloping him with his warm body. Loki cuddles up next to his brother because he is drunk enough to be affectionate. “Will I need to stay with you tonight?” Thor says._

_“You’re just scared of your room because of the ghost!” Loki says. But you can sleep in my room tonight if you want.”_

_“Really?”_

_“Really! Now get off me. You’re too hot.”_

_“Okay,” says Thor, rolling over. “I hope the ghost doesn’t come in here.”_

_“Oh grow up, Thor.”_

_Before Loki drifts into strange, drunken dreams, he can allow himself to appreciate his bond with his brother. They love each other despite being imperfect creatures._

 

* * *

 

Thor and Loki are left to talk to each other alone while Odin and Frigga go out to lunch. 

“Hey,” Thor says awkwardly. Loki notes that there are bags under his eyes.

He decides that he should tease a little to get all the feelings out of the way. “Hello, brother,” he says with a smirk. “ _Are you getting enough sleep?_ ”

“Ugh…I’m trying to hide it from Mother and Father but—I’m so hung-over,” groans Thor.

“Are you serious?” Loki exclaims. “You _idiot!_ You’re supposed to be the good one! Remember when you were failing out of school? Now it’s _my_ turn. _Not_ yours.”

“I guess one of has to fuck up while the other is doing well,” says Thor.

“I wasn’t doing well,” says Loki, laughing. “I was suicidal.”

“Well, academically. Whatever,” says Thor.

“Look, I want to get out of here,” Loki blurts, panicking suddenly. He needs to succeed and do even better than Thor did after taking time away from college.“I need to be back on track with school.”

“Well, you are getting out soon. Mother and Father told me. That must mean you’re getting better, right?”

“I tell them what they need to hear,” Loki says with a shrug. “I’m making great progress.” He grins.

“You can’t cheat at this, Loki. You have to try for real,” says Thor, who looks concerned.

 _Damn it,_ Loki thinks. The last thing he needs now is to worry anyone. He knows he is, in a way, making progress of some sort.Something within him is changing, and he is trying to make sense of his fractured self. What he is underneath all that chaos may very well be rotten too, and Loki is scared. But he can’t tell that to his brother.

“I’m sure you are trying,” says Thor. “You just won’t admit it to yourself.” He’s being gentle to make this easier, and Loki appreciates that. The last thing he needs is his brother scolding him.“Hey, you know what? I want us to spend the summer at the shore house again. Like we did back then.”

“Back then? Like things were so great?”

“This time things will be.”

“We’ll always be there for each other’s failures, I suppose,” says Loki.

“Don’t think of them as failures, Loki. Though, admittedly, I had some pretty big failures. I was a bad big brother. I was supposed to watch you, and I was just—the worst. I think I still am…I—I almost lost you.”

“It’s not your fault,” Loki says, even though sometimes he does blame Thor. Whether Thor deserves it is questionable. His brother was—still is—a lost kid too. A long silence passes.

“We’ll start over, Loki. Just think about kicking back and relaxing. On the beach. And—I won’t make it crowded. It’ll be chill. No big parties.”

“I don’t want you to be lonely,” says Loki softly. He may be a recluse, but he doesn’t want his brother to suffer for his sake. “And if you think having more people will keep the ghost away—”

“ _Oh?_ You believe in the ghost now?” Thor says, the satisfaction clear in his tone.

“I don’t know what I believe. Not anymore.”

Apparently, Thor does not know what to say to such an admission. He must be too hung-over for philosophical musings on the supernatural. If he’s being honest, Loki wishes he could get drunk again.

“Just think about the shore house,” Thor says eventually. “It’ll be good for me to get away from work and everything. And I won’t be alone, anyway, if we’re both there to keep each other company….”

“Stop rambling already,” says Loki. “We can chill with the ghost on the beach. I can’t wait.”

“Great, now give us a hug,” Thor says, grinning.

Loki smiles back, but for some reason, it feels false. He tries to shake away the nagging negativity, and he surrenders to the hug, allowing Thor to lovingly smother him.

The heat radiating from Thor’s body further reminds Loki of his own hollowness, but he sinks further into Thor’s embrace and starts to fall limp.

Maybe this time, he can relax. Maybe his brother will catch him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, I can’t believe this story is over. It’s surreal. This is the first time I’ve ever finished and posted a multi-chaptered fanfiction! I know the ending doesn’t make it all better, but I believe that things will eventually be okay in Thor and Loki’s relationship. In enough time, they can work through anything.
> 
> I’d like to thank my lovely friend [Katie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/poisoninthewater), whose spice-induced visions of angels may have influenced some of my imagery. She is also so always supportive when I blather about my Loki feelings despite not even having watched all the movies.
> 
> [Random](http://archiveofourown.org/users/majikthise) has been helpful and lovely as well...as usual. I write fanfic in her room and she encourages me to stop blogging aggressively or playing Ruzzle. Not to mention I always talk over my ideas with her to get her insight. 
> 
> And I cannot give enough thanks to [Angel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/puzzlie), who gave me in-depth commentary when I was revising. Like...seriously in-depth. And she inspired, well, a lot of detail. Also, she is my sibling consultant as myself, Katie, and Random do not have any siblings despite having lots of feelings about fictional sibling relationships.
> 
> However, all mistakes are unfortunately my fault. Hopefully I will correct them in time. Feel free to share any thoughts you have. And if you want to talk, I'm here. Thank you so much to my lovely readers and reviewers who have stuck with me through this journey.
> 
> P.S. I have an unfinished outtake from angry teen Thor's point of view because of reasons, and if I ever finish it, I may post it on my blog.
> 
> 5/25/15 Looks like I never did post that thing, but hey, I also forgot about it. Maybe I'll dig it up. Poke me if you want it.
> 
> Anyway, I'm really not wild about all the song lyrics and titles I used--they seemed right at the time, but I'm going to change a few of them.


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